


Will you take me with you and carry all this broken bone?

by sildisenchanted



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Harry, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sildisenchanted/pseuds/sildisenchanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All Louis could think of, right then, was how he wanted to be this to Harry. Somewhere warm to run to when the cold was making its way into his bones. Somewhere bright to forget about all the darkness he saw in the world.<br/>Somewhere safe."</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Harry is trying to get away from an abusive relationships and Louis is desperately in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I'm Sil, and this is my first work in English! Please let me know if there are any mistakes... I'm still looking for someone to beta read this, so if you feel like helping me out, let me know!  
> Hope you enjoy the story  
> Lots of love,  
> xxx  
> Sil

**I**

**Warmth**

It was a warm Sunday morning, and the light was starting to creep between the slightly parted curtains as the sun rose. It couldn’t be later than 5:30 am when a ray hit Louis face making him shift in the bed, squinting away from the light and waking him up. The room was silent except for Harry’s steady breathes beside him, curled up under the duvet with his right hand reaching out to his side. Louis grinned sleepily as he pressed himeself closer to the boy, trying to fall back to sleep. Everything was so soft and warm, and for the first time in a long time, it looked like Harry was not scared or frightened. All Louis could think of, right then, was how he wanted to be this to Harry. Somewhere warm to run to when the cold was making its way into his bones. Somewhere bright to forget about all the darkness he saw in the world.

Somewhere _safe_.

****  
  


It was not like this was the first time Harry stayed for the night, but this - _sleeping together, as in falling asleep cuddling in Louis’ bed_  - was completely new even to them. Something really bad must have happened the night before, because when Harry showed up to his door just a few minutes before midnight he was a huge mess. His eyes were red and swollen and his curls tied up in a loose bun over his head.

“Brought some beers. You mind if I come in? It’s freezing” and Louis knew it really wasn’t, but Harry looked on the verge of tears again and he couldn’t stand the sight of his bestfriend crying.

“Another fight with Nick?” Louis tried to ask, taking a beer from the other's hands and making his way to the living room.

“I don’t feel like going into that, sorry mate” Harry replied, a few steps behind. His voice sounded weak and raspy.

"'s okay. I've got 22 Jump Street on, is that alright?"

"Of course!" Harry sat on the couch taking off his coat. The movie was perfect to lighten the mood and managed to make them both crack up a few times. By the ending scene, Harry seemed to be a bit better.

Louis finished his second beer and stood up to get another one from the fridge.

"I'll get you another". He tried to grab Harry's beer from the ground when he noticed he hadn’t even opened it. "What the fuck, Harry? I thought we were getting shitfaced!".

Harry's smile faded into something that looked much more like a frown. "You know that he doesn't like it when I drink" he whispered under his breath.

"Oh, come on! It's not like he's here to witness that, right? Plus, I have a feeling that it's his fault if you showed up at my front door after crying your eyes out".

When he didn't reply, Louis decided to give him some space, so he went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. If alcohol couldn't fix it, tea was his last resort.

He came back to the living room with the hot cup in his hand, handing it to Harry, who wiped his cheeks quickly before thanking him and making space for him on the couch.

A weird silence fell on the room when Louis sat right next to his friend, their arms touching.

“Do you think he will ever forgive me?” Harry let out, leaning against Louis’s shoulder.

“For what?” Louis was so sick of this Nick guy, always turning tables to blame it on Harry and then having him to apologize for something he didn’t do. He was clearly abusive and manipulative, taking advantage of Harry’s personality and empathy: he saw something in Nick that forced him to always run back to him begging on his knees.

“Nothing, forget about it”. Tears started rolling down his face, his eyes trained on his hand and the cup he was holding.

“I wish you just left him, H. He’s just playing, don’t you get that?”

“I don’t even know, Louis. It’s just…” he smiled a shy grin before going on. “He’s the only one I’ve ever been with. We’ve been together for 3 years now, and I don’t even know how to tie my shoelaces when he’s not around. It’s like… I’m so scared, because I don’t even remember what it feels like to face the world on my own”.

“Bullshit”.

“What am I supposed to do? I love him.”

“Do you?” Louis let out a short laugh, before moving his arm to hold Harry in a hug. "Harry, you just told me twenty other reasons not to break up with him, and 'love' was the last one you mentioned. He is always making you feel worthless and stupid. Is this what love is supposed to feel?".

"I guess... No. But it's complicated " he was crying now, tears leaving a wet trail behind them as they fell from his cheeks. Louis wanted to kiss away each one of them.

"It is not. Why don't you stay the night? We could talk about it, since someone is so boring that he doesn't want to get completely drunk with his best mate and just forget about it" Harry slowly nodded, resting his head on Louis shoulder. He looked so fragile, shivering and hugging his legs to his chest, trying not to let out any noise. Louis instinctively pulled him closer, taking the cup from his hand and forcing him to look up from his hands.

"You need to start caring about yourself. I can't stand seeing you this down". Louis hand moved quickly to pull a lock of soft curls behind Harry's ear.

"Tonight... I did that. I walked away" a loud sob shook all his body. Louis didn't know how to feel: it was the first time Harry stood up to Nick, the first time he seemed to realise he could decide for himself other than obeying to Nicks's whims.

"It's a good thing, I g-" but Harry didn't let him finish the sentence, because he started to whisper under his breath.

"... I didn't let him touch me this time. I didn't feel well but he was horny and he tried to force it and..." Louis hugged him again, holding him tighter this time, circling his back in slow movements and trying to keep his own tears from rolling down his cheeks. What really hit him, though, was the fact Harry said "this time". As if it wasn't the first time, as if it was a pattern, something that happened rather frequently. It made Louis's blood boil to think about Harry being forced into something similar, and he felt the sudden urge to punch Nick to death. That filthy, bastard... "I'm gonna kill him".

"Louis, no... I... It was my... fault" Louis couldn't believe that Harry blamed himself for this. He could feel the rage stir inside his chest, but when he caressed Harry's cheeks to wipe away the tears, he did it gently. Always gently when it came to Harry.

Harry asked Louis if he could just hold him without speaking for a while. With dread in his heart, he slowly nodded.

It took around half an hour to calm him down, whispering “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe” again and again and again, until the words melted together into something incomprehensible.

“Want another cuppa?” Louis asked, wondering whether Harry would crumble into pieces as soon as he let him go.

“No, thanks. ‘M cold” Harry mumbled, face buried in Louis’s neck.

“Guess you’re tired, too. Wait, I’ll set up the couch for the night” he gave Harry another tight squeeze, before standing up and going to look for a blanket and some pillows. When he returned, Harry was looking at him with his eyes open wide, still red and swollen for all the crying, a shy smile on his lips.

Louis wrapped the blanket around him, before gently kissing his forehead twice.

“Call me if you need anything, yeah? I’ll be right there. Sleep tight” Louis blinked jokingly, a reminder of one of their inside jokes.

“Thanks, Lou”. Louis turned the light off and walked to his room. Alone in the silence of the night, he started to cry.

The sound of muffled footsteps woke Louis up twentyfive minutes later. He lifted his head to see Harry’s outline waiting by the door, nothing but a silent shadow.

“You okay?” Louis mumbled, still groggy and half asleep.

“I… I can’t sleep” Harry looked so nervous and insecure, Louis felt the need to hug him.

“Here” He shifted to make room for the boy in his single bed, then patted on the side that was now empty as an invitation. Harry reached the bed with just a few small steps, then layed down next to Louis sliding under the duvet. Louis was falling back to sleep, when he heard Harry’s breath turning irregular. Without opening his eyes, he turned around and wrapped the curly one into his arms. Harry turned his back to Louis, grabbing his hand and placing a delicate kiss on his fingers.

Louis was suddenly awake, completely aware of what just happened. It was the first time Harry touched him in that way. Louis knew that that kiss was nothing more than a way of showing gratitude; still, he wondered what would it be like to fall asleep like that every night, a tangle of love and arms in a warm bed.

****  
  
  


It was Harry to wake up at 10 am, the light pouring in the room and colouring everything of a warm shade of gold. He was completely unable to move, buried under Louis’s arms and legs and the light-blue duvet. He couldn’t remember much of the night, so he assumed they had just snuggled up to sleep after he told Louis that he couldn’t sleep.

He slowly turned around to face the boy, who was still fast asleep, his lips slightly parted and his breath steady. Everything was silent and still around them, the only moving thing in the room being the specks of dust visible in the light rays.

Harry knew that he should be happy and relieved about Nick: he finally had the courage to stand up to him, to walk away from their violent relationship. Truth was he felt nothing but fear. They had been together since he was nothing more than a teenager; Nick was all his first times: first kiss, first boyfriend, first intercourse. Harry couldn’t remember what life was before being with him, and that’s what scared the shit out of him. He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself on his own, without anyone to watch his back all the time. That’s why he had always accepted all of Nick’s outbursts, even when he felt like it was becoming a little too much. He was scared of being alone.

But the night before things got out of hand, even for Nick’s standard, and he had decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was doing the right thing by leaving all of that behind, but he was now painfully aware of the fact that being in full control of your life after so long is scary as hell.

He didn’t feel like thinking about all the bad of his relationship in that moment, because the world looked like nothing but a wonderful place from his little spot in Louis’s bed.

Harry’s feet were freezing, so he tried to slide them between Louis’s legs. Louis quietly mumbled something, moving away from him. He tried to turn on the other side, but the bed was too small, so he ended up hitting his head against the wall with a loud _bump!_.

Harry couldn’t help but burst into a loud laughter, feeling nothing but light and warmth and peace.

It had been a long time since he felt like that around someone.

It was the first time he felt like that with someone who wasn’t Nick.

“What the fuck?” Louis hissed out, placing a hand on his forehead. He could feel Harry’s laugh against his back, his body shaking from all that giggling.

“Your head! Against the wall…” Harry couldn’t even breathe from how hard he was laughing “... my fault!”

“Your fault what?” Louis couldn’t help starting to smile - this was what Harry did to him: he made Louis laugh even when his head was pouncing so hard he was scared it was going to break.

Harry tried to calm down, taking a few deep breathes.

“You were trying to get away from my frozen feet and you turned around only the wall was there and oh my god, I’m really sorry but this is the funniest - oh, are you hurt?” his eyes were now open wide, lit with concern and guilt.

“Very hurt. I think I’ll need to see a doctor” Louis played along, pouting and turning to face Harry completely. They barely fit into the single bed, so their bodies brush together as he moved sleepily to his other side. Their contact scares Harry, who involuntarily tries to pull away from Louis. It just reminds him of Nick and how his hungry hands were moving all around his body trying to-

“You alright, mate?” As if being in bed together, curled up like they are, made it acceptable for Louis to still call Harry “mate”. What the hell was going on? Why was Harry so scared? Nick.

Louis instinctively raised his hands above his head, trying not to touch Harry at all. “It’s okay, H. See? Not touching. Sorry about that”.

Harry was still shaking, shivering in the blue hoodie he slept in. He both wanted to hug Louis and run away.

“Know what? I’m feeling hungry. Let’s get some breakfast, yeah?” Louis smiled a reassuring smile, then nodded his head, slowly. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sleepyhead. I’ll bring you something. Don’t fall asleep!” he jumped off the bed, winking to the boy while balancing himself on his feet.

He knew Harry needed some space to think about everything that has been going on since the night before, but he was scared of leaving him alone with his thoughts for too long.

He quickly grabbed the blanket from the couch, draping it around his shoulders, then waited for the water to be hot enough shifting his weight from one feet to the other.

Harry was still crying, his back turned to the door and his head hidden in his hands.

Louis placed the cups on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of his bed, his left hand flattening the duvet with quick motions. He forced himself to relax and take two deep breaths before breaking the silence.

“I’m so sorry, H. I didn’t want to make it awkward. I’ve got you a cuppa”.

Hearing these words, Harry turned around, his eyes closed, arms open reaching out for help.

*

He washed his hands again - _it’s the third time in one minute, Harry, now stop it_ \- and tried to get out of the bathroom, eyes still swollen for all the crying. The thing was that Louis had been so sweet and caring with him, and he was feeling so loved. And even if it made him feel warm and safe, it also made him feel dirty, because he could still hear Nick whispering “Dirty, little slut” in his ear every time they had sex. So in that moment, he washed his hands a fourth time. For good measure.

Louis waved him goodbye from the door frame. They had spent another hour in bed, curled up so close their nose were brushing against each other’s, before Harry had muttered something about getting some fresh air and going for a walk. He had refused Louis offer to go with him and instantly stood up from the bed, running to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

He had left the flat as he was in a hurry, avoiding Louis touch and gaze without trying to hide it. It felt rude and _wrong_ \- in an new, odd way - and Louis was rather hurt. He went back to bed. It was still unmade, Harry’s smell still lingering between the sheets. He fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

****  
  
  
  
  



	2. Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter! I hope you like this one as well. All your kudos and comments really mean a lot to me! 
> 
> Thank you to Lo, as well, for being an amazing beta reader - and being coherent in his mistakes ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think of chapter 2...  
> As usual, lots of love xxx  
> Sil

**II**

**Safety**

It’d been a month since The Night, and Harry was disappearing, physically and mentally turning into nothing more than a shell, emptied of every emotion or feeling.

All that was left of him were the damp, cold walls he was building around himself, trying to shelter away from his friends' questions or investigating looks.

Harry had moved in with Niall just a couple of days after The Night, and he was hardly ever leaving the flat at all. The boys made sure he was never completely alone for too long, and _yes, maybe they were being a bit overprotective,_ but Harry looked so fragile all the time, almost if he was always on the verge of crying.

But Louis was the only one to ever see him in tears, to be honest. And it made him proud - in a sick and morbid way, he recognized - to be the one Harry trusted enough to let Louis see him crumbling. Because Harry’s crisis had been getting worse - so, so much worse.

Everyone knew it.

Everyone noticed when he disappeared in the bathroom for at least ten minutes, water running and tap closing and opening in an smooth pattern.

Everyone noticed when the lights were flicked on and off twice before leaving the room, or when the door handle was touched only through the fabric of Harry sweatshirt pulled down to cover his palm.

But no one really said anything, because that was not their business, was it?

Niall and Liam really loved Harry, but they were scared. Harry was standing on such a thin line all that making him fall to the ground seemed to easy to be risked - and they could not bear making him worse. So. They just tried to keep him company, make him laugh, make popcorn and watch a shitton of movies, since it seemed to be the only way to let Harry’s mind wander off for a while.

It had all slowed down into a slow routine that Harry found extremely comforting.

Louis was playing with a stupid app on his phone while riding the bus to Niall’s flat when his phone buzzed from an incoming message.

 

_From: Liam [7:17pm]_  
_heading out in 10 mins. sure u dont wanna come? meeting new ppl would be good_

 

He frowned at the screen. He had refused to go to that party downtown because his week had been shit - and all he needed to cheer him up was a movie night snuggling on the sofa with Harry. Still, he couldn’t deny that his relationship with the curly one wasn't a healthy one.

Harry was constantly in need of attentions, and sometimes it all became too much. His phone went off again.

 

_From: Harry [7:19pm]_  
_on your way? the boys are leaving in no time._

 

He knew what the subtext was: “please be here soon. I’m scared”. He couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of the traffic jam the bus was stuck in.

 

_To: Liam [7:19pm]_  
_stuck in traffic. wont be there in less than 20 - u guys go ahead and have fun!!! maybe next time. not in the mood_

 

_To: Harry [7:20pm]_  
_not gonna be long! pick out the movie, i trust ur judgement._

 

_From: Harry [7:23pm]_  
_ won’t let you down! making popcorn xxxxx _

 

Louis’s heart fluttered as he read those little “x” on his phone screen.

He was so, so fucked.

 

“The king’s home!” Louis belted out entering the flat. As he heard Harry giggling from the kitchen, he grinned wider and started making his way towards the boy. “My lady” he added, bowing and kneeling in front of the boy.

“Why do I have to be the damsel in distress?” Harry replied, taking a bowl out of the cupboard.

Louis was unsure about what to say. So many sentences were forming in his mind, but he was scared of crossing a major line by speaking them out loud. However, Harry seemed to be in a good mood and he knew this was a rare occasion to talk about this… situation. Whatever it was. He decided to start off with something light anyway. “First of all: your long, perfectly styled curls.” This earned him a light giggle. Louis pushed himself back up and sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter. “Second” he held up two fingers, his smile lightly fading. “You never seem to leave your castle. So I came here to save you”. It took 5 seconds to Harry's eyes to fill with tears, but he kept staring at Louis unblinkingly. “Third” he whispered “you always look so scared. You make me want to protect you”.

Harry’s hands were gripping the bowl as if it was the only thing to keep him in there. His eyes were darting around the room, as if he was looking for a way out.

“Fourth” Louis drawled “I think I’d make a fit Prince Charming”.

At that, Harry nervously giggled and stormed out of the room, a soft “Weren’t you a king?” following his hushed steps. It wasn't much, Louis knew, but the fact that Harry wasn't curled up on the floor crying like a baby was something he was grateful for.

Louis found him on the sofa, browsing on his laptop. "So, what are we watching?" Louis plopped down beside him, balancing the bowl of popcorn on the armrest.

"Into the wild. I think you will like it". He pressed play without giving Louis the time to reply.

Louis scooted in closer and whispered "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to upset you".

Harry stayed still. Louis couldn't tell whether he had heard him or not.

 

"Louis?".

"Yeah?" He answered, mouth full of popcorn. After the movie ended, they decided that they needed something funny to lighten the mood, so they ended up watching Masterchef. Some girl was being yelled at by Gordon Ramsay because of her poor flambé skills.

Wild, wild Friday night.

Harry's head was resting on his shoulder, his body curled up and pressed against his in a way that felt familiar yet new.

"Do you think... I was thinking. Yeah. Maybe tomorrow, I could... Come at yours? Maybe. If you still want me to." Harry's gaze was lowered to his hands, playing with a loose string from the hem of his t-shirt.

"Of course I want you to! It'll be great." Louis smiled wide, a half-chewed popcorn falling from the corner of his mouth. "Ops. Gross!" He giggled, too overwhelmed by the thought of Harry leaving the house for the first time in a month to go to his place to really care about it.

"He doesn't know where you live, right? So, yeah. Not that meeting him would be a problem."

"Of course not, Harry. Maybe Niall could drop you off." He surrounded the younger boy's shoulders with his right arm.

"Nah. He's going on a date. I know he would never bring her home if he knew I'm here, and I don't want to ruin it for him." His nervousness was starting to show, a bright blush colouring his cheeks.

"Such a loyal friend" Louis teased, ruffling his curls. "I don't know if I'll be able to pick you up, though."

"It's... Alright" it felt like he was struggling with the words to get them out. "I can take the bus".

"I'm so proud of you, Harry". Again, no answer. Louis couldn't tell anymore whether it was a good sign or not.

 

*

 

__ To: Lou [6:33pm]  


_ It looks nothing like Cinderella's carriage. I'm definitely asking for a refund! _

 

He pocketed his phone, a nervous smile curling his lips. He had just sent Louis a picture of the empty bus, mostly because he was so nervous that he needed him to make one of his witty remarks to make him feel better.

He didn't know what had come to his mind the night before: why did he suggest to go over to Louis'? He knew how hard it would have been. He had been controlling his breath since he left the house, counting to four before exhaling and then to six before inhaling. Not that it was working.

There were just two other people beside him on the bus: a woman in her late 30s, scrolling through her Facebook wall, and an old man reading a worn out copy of the bible. Nothing to be scared of: he could handle two harmless people on a bus. He had this.

Staying home felt much better than all of this going out situation, that was for sure, but he knew that sooner or later he would have had to leave the house. Especially since his funds were running low and he needed to find a job to pay his share of rent.

The bus came to a stop and his phone rang from a new message.

 

_From: Lou [6:36pm]_  
_ Aren't we fussy?! xxxx _

_Ordering pizza what do u want_

 

_To: Lou   [6:37pm]_  
_ How do you feel about pineapple? _

 

_From: Lou  [6:37pm]_  
_ Pls don't say pineapple _

 

_From: Lou  [6:37pm]_  
_ I KNEW IT - HAROLD. NO. _

 

_To: Lou  [6:37pm]_  
_Please?_

 

_From: Lou [6:38pm]_  
_Double cheese sounds great, thanks for the suggestion Harold. xxxxx_

 

_To: Lou [6:40pm]_  
_ You are the worst _

 

He smiled fondly to his phone screen. Louis definitely knew how to make him mad, but, to be honest, what Louis knew best was how to make him smile.

But Harry Styles, fresh out from an abusive relationship and forever troubled by his anxiety, was not quite ready to admit that.

He got off after 10 minutes, his earbuds still in his ears and a relaxing classical piece playing in the background. He just needed to focus on himself, now, ignoring everyone he met. Not so difficult, to be honest, since the streets were almost empty - weird, since it was a nice Saturday night. He sped up his pace until Louis' building was in sight and he left out a long, relieved sigh. As he approached the door, he noticed a shadow by what had to be Louis' kitchen window. He felt himself blush at the thought of Louis waiting for him by the window, as if he was impatient to see him.

_Breathe in, breathe out_ he told himself, while he pulled one of the sleeves of his coat down enough to cover his fingers. He rang the doorbell with the same hand.

When Louis opened the door, Harry had to repeat himself to breathe again, because there was something about Louis’ smile that made his head spin and his knees feel weak.

“Oh, it’s _you_ ” Louis drawled, trying to look disappointed. “I was hoping for the pizza guy. Well, come in, my lady.” He took a step back, made eye contact with him one last time and led the way into the apartment. “Are you okay?” his voice was lower, nothing more than a whisper.

“A bit… overwhelmed.”

When the adrenaline rush started to die down, he found himself shaking. He had ventured out, alone, at night. He felt both brave and scared, a weird combination of feelings filling his chest.   
He realised that without Louis, he would have been in his apartment, buried under his plaid, watching trash TV programs and waiting for Nick to come home from one of those "boys night" he was never invited to.   
But that still hurt to think about, so he focused on the way Louis' eyes were glaring at him in concern.   
"'s okay" he tried to sound reassuring. It didn't work out that well. "It's just a lot to deal with". He offered a crooked smile.   
"Of course, H. It was so brave of you" Louis slightly opened his arms, as if he was asking for permission. Nodding, Harry took two steps forward and found himself surrounded by a gentle hug. It was a nice, warm feeling.   
"Proud of you". And finally Harry broke down into tears, a soft giggle escaping his lips as well.

 

  
  
Louis turned down the volume until the TV was muted. Harry was snoring on his lap, lips slightly parted and drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. He had fallen asleep soon after the opening of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Louis had to watch it all by himself, biting back all his snarky remarks because he didn't want to wake the other boy up.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and snapped a pic.

 

_To: Liam [00:09]_  
_didn't think I was this boring!! How the hell am I supposed to bring him back to Niall's?_

 

_From: Liam [00:15]_  
_r we pretending ur not glad he fell asleep on u? ;)_

 

_To: Liam [00:015]_  
_prick_

 

_From: Liam [00:28]_

_]_

_be jealous!_

 

Liam sent a pic attached to his last message, a selfie of him with a suspicious drink in his hand. He answered with some emojis that implied “getting laid tonight” and locked his phone, letting it slide between his back and the sofa.

He didn’t want to wake Harry up, but his legs were starting to feel a bit numb and all the beer he had wasn’t helping his full bladder.

“Hey, Harry” he whispered, nudging against his shoulder.

“... dragons. I… scared… mblbbbmmm” Louis forced himself not to laugh.

“Haz, no dragons in sight. You can wake up, it’s safe here”.

“Safe”. Harry repeated, leaning closer and snuggling against Louis’ side, his hand gripping the fabric of Louis’ t-shirt.

 

*

 

After that night, Harry came over to Louis’ quite often. It was usually Louis to invite him for a movie, or a beer (which Harry hadn't even touched, yet), or an easy night with Niall and Liam - and Louis considered it an honour for his house to be the only place outside Niall's flat that Harry found safe. Harry was slowly getting better: he had started looking for a job, making actual phone calls and writing emails, and just a  a couple of hours before he had sent him a text to ask Louis to go grocery shopping with him.

Louis knew it was the first time since the breakup. It did sound a bit exaggerated, to hide and hold back from life so much just because of an ill-fated relationship - but then again, Harry had slipped some hints about Nick abusing of him, clearly not just in a sexual way. Just the thought of it made Louis' chest fill with anger and his sight go blurry.

_None of my business; nothing Harry can’t deal with._ Except, of course Harry couldn’t deal with it, given his anxiety and his panic attacks and silent tears when he thought no one was looking.

The bus came to a sudden halt, jolting him forward in his seat and interrupting his train of thoughts, already speeding at an alarming rate down a dangerous path. Louis made a conscious effort to snap out of it, clearing his throat as to catch his own attention and turning a page of the biology book balanced on his legs, trying to focus on the wonders of mitochondria and ribosomes. He really needed to catch up with his studying if he wanted to keep his excellent grades. This Harry-thing had unbalanced his rhythm, taking up almost every single hour he didn’t have classes and making him lose several hours of rest trying to teach his heart how to beat again after a goodnight text from Harry.

He had known it for a long time, but he had always shrugged it off as something _casual_ , a mere crush on a friend because, he had eyes, after all, and Harry was proper fit.  Proper fit and in a long, steady relationship. At least until a month ago.

Or until Louis had felt something shift in his chest a couple of days ago and he had understood how completely, utterly gone he already was.

He closed his textbook in an abrupt motion and got off the bus, well-aware of the fact that it was a 20 minutes walk to Niall’s apartment. Whatever. Louis could use some fresh air right now.

 

*

 

_“You look ridiculous” Harry giggled, head bent back in grasp of air, the warmth of his laughter radiating across the room._

_“Listen here, you bugger” Louis replied, a lopsided grin curling his lips. “When I said we were gonna watch Grease, I meant ‘we are gonna watch Grease and sing. Every. Single. Song’. Because that’s of we do it, us Tomlinson. My house, my rules”._

_Harry was still laughing, eyes cornered by tears and hands pressed on his stomach to try and calm down the shaking tremor that was shaking all his body. “Was that really” a pause for air “necessary? The- the hair, I mean”._

_“Oh, Styles, you love it” Louis regretted saying it the moment it left his lips, but Harry seemed so carefree, right then, that Louis felt a small hint of hope stirring in his chest._

_“Does this mean I have to be Sandy?” Harry’s eyes were crinkled at the corners. Rare to see him smiling like that._

_“Of fucking course. Do you think I styled my hair as Travolta himself just because? Grease is no laughing matter, you know”. At Harry amused glare, an eyebrow raised as a provocation, Louis took three strides forward and shoved Harry back into the sofa, his hands already reaching out to tickle him to death, when -_

_when Harry froze on the spot, eyes wide with panic and breaths reduced to sharp intakes of breath -_

_Louis stood up, taking a couple of steps backwards and tripping over the coffee table._

_“Sorry, sorry. Not touching. See? Not touching. Sorry” he held his palms towards Harry, as a proof of what he just said._

_Harry wasn’t answering, still curled up on the sofa, his face hidden behind his hands. Which it was definitely not helping with the breathing._

_“Harry, will you please look at me?” he tried, his voice low. “Harry. Haz. It’s okay, I promise. Just. Look at me, okay?” thirty seconds passed before Harry obeyed. “Good boy”._

_Louis had zero experience in dealing with panic attacks or anxiety or whatever it was, so he was terrified of fucking it up. Terribly, irremediably fucking it up. He needed to think straight, right? To help Harry, yes. He still had not idea of how to deal with it. So he took a deep breath - and of course. He could start with that._

_“Harry, I need your help in this, okay?” Harry nodded, his eyes still filled with panic and a drop of sweat starting to form on his right temple._

_“Let’s try to get some deep breaths together, yeah? I promise it will help”._

_It took Harry a while to figure out again how inhaling and exhaling worked, but in the end he managed to calm himself down._

_Louis was sitting on the carpet, now, his hair completely dishevelled and his mind fogged with guilt._

Your fault - your touch - your fault - he hates you - let him go.

_“Thank you” it came out as a whisper, barely audible above the honk of a car on the street._

_‘Why the Hell are you thanking me?’ is all Louis would have liked to ask, but Harry seemed to know it already, so the sentence was shortly followed by: “It usually takes me an hour to wind down”._

_“It was my fault” and Louis really, really hated himself for these words. But they were out there, now, impossible to erase - his shame full on display,_

_“Shit - No” Harry sat up straight, completely out of the exhausted haze he had seemed to fall in just a few minutes after managing to even his breath out. “It was never your fault, okay? Please don’t feel like that. It was never you…”._

_“Whose fault is it, then?” and it was meant to be a rhetorical question, Louis clearly not buying it._

_“Nick’s” only Harry’s answer came, and shit. Harry gestured in Louis’ direction, tears pooling in his eyes and already panting. “Can you please hold me?” and Louis failed at his attempt of being graceful, afraid of scaring Harry even more, by hitting his knee against the coffee table. He barely noticed. It didn’t hurt as much as the tear in his chest, anyway._

_A moment later, Louis was carefully draping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, trying to keep the contact as light as possible and to provide both himself and Harry with the feeling of stability they both needed._

_“Lou.” Harry broke the silence after a couple of minutes. Or maybe more. Time didn’t make much sense right then, when all Louis could hear was Harry’s breath against his shoulder. “There’s no reason for you to blame yourself, you know that”._

_He did, but there was still something unpleasantly ravelling in his mind. “Can you please. Uhm. Promise me you’ll tell me if I do something that makes you even slightly uncomfortable?”._

_“Of course.” There was a small, sad smile on both their faces. No dimples or wrinkles this time. “I always feel so safe around you”._

_Louis heart flipped in his chest._

_For the first time, he let himself think about the word “love”._

~~_I love_ _you_.~~  “I’m glad you do." _~~I love you.~~_


	3. Nadir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! First of all, thanks to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on the previous chapters! It means a lot to get your feedbacks. This chapter is slightly early because I won't be home on Sunday... Hope you'll enjoy!  
> Lots of love, xxx  
> Sil

**III**

**Nadir**

Harry read through his list one more time, ticking every item Louis and he had placed into the shopping cart. It had taken them 45 minutes to walk to Tesco and to get inside, because Harry was so close to have a full panic attack that he had to stop several time just to catch his breath. Now that they were finally inside, though, things were going better. He was used to this: back when he was with Nick, he had always been the one to go grocery shopping. He liked to do it - especially because in that way he had been able to pick up whatever he knew would have done better for his cooking.

“Can I get one of those? I’ll pay it back later” Louis’ voice enquired, just behind a shelf. He emerged from behind it holding a chocolate bar for Harry to see.

“Make sure you take two” was his answer, his voice hoarse because of all the crying he had that morning. It had been a harsh day, no doubt about it. But as they checked out, Harry started to feel a tiny glint of happiness radiating through his body. He had done it. He had made it outside. Of course he was terrified, of course this was just an insignificant step. A step nonetheless: a step in the right direction.

He smiled happily at Louis when he offered him the chocolate bar and started walking towards his - no, _Niall’s_ apartment. The walk took around 10 minutes, the bags balanced on his right arm and his attention focused on Louis’ voice.

“... this upcoming Thursday. I really need to focus on studying and passing that exam, if I don’t want to lose my scholarship. What about you? When do your classes start anyway?” Louis casted him a sideway glance, still walking.

“Mh. Yeah… I don’t know. I haven’t checked”. Harry felt himself blush. Horrible, horrible liar. Louis didn’t say anything, but raised an eyebrow and didn’t lower his gaze. “Okay, okay. Last Monday”.

“Harry” Louis voice was definitely not angry, which was what Harry had feared the most. He sounded just upset.

“I know, I know. It’s just… I was thinking about quitting, anyway”.

“No way, Harry!” his eyes were lit with pure disbelief now. “You love your course! I can’t just give up like that”.

“I’m not giving up…”.

“It sounds like you are.” Louis took a deep breath, looking away from his face. “I get that it’s hard, I do. But you will regret it later… you could force Liam to drive you there tomorrow, just to see how it goes”.

Harry nodded, mostly because he didn’t feel like discussing the topic any further. He did want to go, but showing up for classes meant going out everyday, even when the walls of his room felt like the only stable thing in the world, and meeting people, even when all he wanted to do was to cry by himself.

He thought about the first time he thought about leaving university. It had been on a Sunday evening, when the bruise on his neck had been still too visible to be hidden under his curls. Not the first that it had happened, but of course it had been an accident. He shouldn’t have been so upset about the cancelled date. It would have been the fourth day he skipped in a row. It had been like that for about a month: what was the point of paying the fee if he didn’t go half of the time? For the bruises, for his anxiety, for whatever reason. Plus, he never went on Thursday, because it was Nick’s day off and he wanted to spend some time together.

Now, though… everything had changed. He was no longer with Nick: his Thursdays were his and his only, and there were no bruises along his jaw to hide. The anxiety was there, worse than ever, questioning every decisions he made and making his breathing difficult, but he could deal with it. He had loving friends by his side, after all. He had Louis, holding him when the night got too lonely or the questions in his head to persistent.

_Why did I let him? Why didn’t I run away sooner? How did I let it happen?_

“Harry, are you with me? I know it’s a lot. Just think about it, mh?” Louis smiled his wide grin and went on rambling about some TV show they had meant to watch together. With him, it was always like that: serious talk followed by nonsense, random stuff.

Harry was so grateful to have him.

Harry was struggling to open the door when he heard Louis calling his name from the sidewalk. He shouted “I’m proud of you!” without stopping, a grin wide on his face.

_*_

_To: Liam [4:45pm]_

_Liam :) can you drive me to uni tomorrow morning?_

__

_From: Liam [5:02pm]_

_hey Haz! yeah sure. what time?_

__

_To: Liam [5:03pm]_

_7:30? thank you so much. baking cookies as a reward_

__

_From: Liam [5:03pm]_

_no prob! love you!!!_

__

He was proud of himself, too.

*

He closed the door behind him, letting out a loud sigh. What a busy, busy day. He was taking off his - _Niall’s_ , he still hadn’t got anything from Nick’s house - t-shirt to step into the shower when he heard his phone going off on the sink. It was Louis, of course, probably wanting to know how the day went. To be fair, everything had gone smoothly: of course, he had been close to a break down all day long, but he hadn’t run away or had a panic attack in the halls. So, yeah. A good day.

Louis said goodbye after a three-minute call full of praises and of _Improudofyous_. Being praised was something completely new for Harry, used to be in the shadow of someone else’s spotlight. In the end, he was just a kid studying to become a teacher, while Nick could already count on his position as an intern to start a brilliant career as a lawyer. Still, it would have been nice to hear someone say: “Aren’t you proud of him, Nick?” and not the other way around, from time to time.

Nick had told him a couple of times that he thought that his English degree was going to be useless - and of course it had been the most painful thing in years, of course. Did it mean Nick was always the bad guy?

No.

Nick let him steal the last slice of pizza from his plate without rolling his eye.

Nick used to read him his favourite poetry - even if: “Babe, I don’t get a thing he’s trying to say” - before bed on Harry’s bad days.

Nick had made a reservation on the most expensive place in town for the two of them on Harry’s birthday and bought him a Yves Saint Laurent scarf.

Nick kissed Harry on the mouth even when he hadn’t washed his teeth yet and never made fun of him when he couldn’t find the willpower to drag himself out of bed and shower.

Nick knew how to kiss him and the soft spot behind his ear that made his legs go all weak.

Nick cried himself to sleep sometimes, when he called home and his father still wouldn’t talk to him.

But then again, this was another Nick, the Nick of the first two years of his relationship. Not the one who didn’t talk for days if he didn’t feel like having sex, not the one who got upset if his dinner wasn’t ready by the time he got home.

Harry had walked away from it, though. From every side of Nicks, even the good ones, and was it normal that he felt a tiny bit of nostalgia? Was it okay to miss his apartment and his books? Was it acceptable to miss the pillow talks and the cuddles under the duvet and the dates on ordinary days?

Harry didn’t know, but he felt like he was starting to sort his life out. It wasn’t easy, and he still wanted to give up and run back to his comfort zone every two hours, but that was part of the process. There was no easy way out of it.

He got out of the shower, skipped a couple of songs of his “shower *_*” playlist ( _hey, don’t judge! He had made it a couple years ago. That was a dark time for everyone_ ) and quickly changed into a pair of joggers and a loose grey t-shirt. He was running out of Niall’s clothes to borrow and the ones he bought in Primark last month weren’t nearly enough for him to go to school everyday. This either meant having to buy new ones - and waiting another month to pay his share of the rent - or going to collect his stuff from his apartment. He knew he would have had to do it, eventually, just… it felt so unreal to walk into his house as a stranger. But maybe taking his clothes out of the wardrobe would have given him a real sense of closure and allowed him to leave it all behind to start again.

A fresh start.

_I’ll go on Monday_ , he decided, because Mondays are for fresh starts and new beginnings.

 

 

When Niall let himself in, a couple of hours later, Harry was into the third chapter of the book he had been assigned that morning. Falling back into his old routine - the coffee mug, his hair tied in a bun, his books spread out across the table - felt extremely easy: the light was coming from the wrong direction, the table was a bit too small to fit all of his notes and it wasn’t as quiet as in his apartment, but it was a nice feeling to be back to his habits.

Niall asked about his day and they made some small talk while the Irish started to cut some vegetable on the kitchen counter.

“So. Uhm. I told Lisa about my new housemate, and she’s looking forward to meeting you.” Was it nervousness in Niall’s voice?

“Yeah, that’d be great. Can we ask Liam or Louis too?” Harry was already smiling when he finished his answer. “I don’t feel like third wheeling”.

Niall hit him on his shoulder with a carrot about to be cut. “It’s not like we would start making out in the middle of dinner”.

“Niall, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”

“You know what, Harry Styles? I was sixteen that time. I’m much more in control of my hormones right now, thank you very much” he tried to sound harsh, but Harry could only hear the fondness in his voice. “Now move that stuff from the table, dinner is almost ready”.

As Harry collected his books and moved them on his bed, Niall turned on the radio, humming quietly to whatever song was playing in that moment. Harry smiled at how domestic the scene was. After a month, living in that apartment was starting to feel less temporary and more like a permanent solution. Niall was a perfect roommate, always bright and cheerful and in the mood for pizza. A bit messy, yeah, but he could cook and he usually cleaned up after himself.

Harry on the other hand was still tiptoeing around, always careful not to overstep whatever bounds Niall might have had, but he felt more and more comfortable each day.

They had dinner in companionable silence, the radio still playing in the background. When they were both done, Harry stood up to clean up the table and wash the dishes.

“When is Lisa coming over? I want to cook her something special.”

“Tomorrow, maybe? If that’s okay. Oi! Don’t try to win my soon-to-be-girlfriend with your culinary skills!” Red blotches started creeping on Niall’s neck.

“I would never!” Harry turned around, his face schooled in an expression of faux indignation. Niall cackled and Harry turned back to the sink. “Must admit that the fact that I don’t really like boobs helps a lot”. He added, because for the first time in _months_ he was feeling fearless, bold enough to joke around his best friend. Wasn’t that fucked up?

Harry was lucky enough that his friends had welcomed him without questions after months and months of pure absence. Nick didn’t like them that much - “Harry, they are so childish that I can’t believe you actually find them funny.” - and Harry had thought that having Nick would have been enough. They were meant to be together for the rest of their lives, weren’t they?

“How can you not, mate? Seriously. They’re like, the best thing” Niall asked, incredulous. His phone buzzed on the table. “Speaking of which, Lisa said tomorrow sounds great”.

The evening was spent on the sofa, Niall mostly absorbed in his texting and Harry only half paying attention to the TV.

Harry’s phone screen lit with an incoming message.

_Whatsapp:_

_Niall Horan added you to the group “BOOBS :Q_”_

__

_From: Niall [9:37pm]_

_hey guys lisas coming for dinner tomorrow_

_u feel like joining us?_

_Hazs cooking_

__

_From: Liam [9:37pm]_

_finally!!! what time?_

__

_From: Lou [9:39pm]_

_im only coming for the food_

__

_From: Niall [9:40pm]_

_thnks louis -.-_

_7?_

__

_From: Lou [9:41pm]_

_Harry how does roasted chicken sound_

__

_To: BOOBS :Q__

_I’ll think about it Lou_

__

_From: Lou [9:41pm]_

_Oh cmon Haz do it for me_

__

_From: Liam [9:47pm]_

_oi u two, take your flirting somewhere else_

__

_From: Lou [9:47pm]_

_fuck off lime_

__

Harry hadn’t noticed he was smiling until Niall threw him a cushion.

“What?” he asked, grin unfaded.

“You two are adorable” he sighed dramatically. Harry hide his face under the blanket covering him, letting out a disapproving groan. “Oh, don’t try and deny it Harry!I have eyes”. Niall found himself covered with three different cushions, the blanket, and a book. For good measure.

“Easy there” he smiled easily “Louis is a good lad. You’d look cute together.”

“I better stay away from relationships for a while, y’know?” He breathed out in the end. Why was it so difficult to breath? He felt the urge to run away.

“Maybe you could just, like, hang out for a while” Niall stroked his hair and looked away. “With no pressure, I mean. I think he really likes you”.

_I really like him, as well_. “Mh. Dunno.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on his hands. Why did he throw Niall the blanket? He needed it now. He was too exposed with nothing to hide him from Niall, even if he wasn’t watching. “I’m going to bed” he whispered. Niall wished him a goodnight, voice soft and worried. He ignored the concern in the Irish’ eyes and closed the door behind him.

He got ready for bed and unlocked his phone to set the alarm for the following day. He didn't have class until 10, which gave him plenty of time to sleep and recover from the stressful day he had. He decided on walking to uni, even if it would take him half an hour. He didn't want to bother Liam more than necessary.

_Whatsapp:_

_Tommo changed the subject to: "Liam is a prick"_

Harry couldn't help but smile. He muted the group chat (Liam and Louis could go on with their fights for _hours_ ) and turned off the lights.

His mind was dangerously close to harmful thoughts ( _He was right when he told me that I was his dirty slut. I miss him. I'm so fucked up. I probably deserved it_ ) when he heard Niall's laugh echoing from behind the closed door.

It was enough to remind him of the fact that he was safe, here, far from Nick and his violence.

Niall's laugh was followed by a "You're not being helpful, Lisa" and another giggle.

Niall was here. Niall was nice. He didn't shout when Harry forgot to take out the trash. He didn't scrutiny him 24/7, looking for any flaws to point out whenever he wanted. He asked Harry about his day and listened to his answer. He liked cool music. Niall was nice.

Harry drifted to sleep with Niall fond laugh as  a background, a vague sense of peace blanketing his thoughts.

Medieval Lit was Harry’s least favourite class, but he was feeling radiant. He had risen his hand twice, and his answers had both been praised by the professor for their accuracy, so he was feeling quite invincible when he got home that afternoon.

Upon taking his shoes off, he could hear Niall belting out the wrong lyrics to Fleetwood Mac under the shower. Harry had to start cooking soon if he wanted to get everything ready on time, but he figured he could watch some TV until Niall was done with his shower.

“Hey, Haz” he was greeted ten minutes later “Lisa is coming over a bit earlier. She wants to help you making dinner, if that’s okay?”

“She knows she doesn’t have to, right?” Harry sighed. He could use a bit of extra help, but he  had thought about it being from Niall’s end.

“Yeah, it’s alright. She said she doesn’t want to be a bother. I know! She’s just this sweet.” Harry couldn’t resist the urge to give Niall some shit about his heart-eyes: it was only fair, after last night’s teasings about him and Louis.

They were still bickering when the doorbell ring interrupted Niall mid-sentence.

“Shit” he stage-whispered, face turning a bright shade of pink “Do I look okay?” The concern in his voice was honestly the funniest thing.

“You look fabulous, Ni. Now go and be a good host” he couldn’t help but wink and nod toward the door.

When Lisa entered the room, a few minutes later, Harry understood why Niall was so gone for her. She was pure energy: a wide grin on her face, a bottle of wine balanced in the crook of her arm and a set of sparkling bracelets on her right wrist. She took a couple of step in Harry’s direction, and engulfed him in a gentle hug. He didn’t even wince at the unexpected touch: she looked so delicate that he found himself kissing her on both cheeks before letting go.

It didn’t take long to the two of them before they started chatting while Niall set the table. She was studying design in uni, had 2 dogs and loved Japanese culture. They agreed on trying the new sushi place together sometimes next week. When Harry added “I could ask Louis, as well. He will like it” Niall whispered “Double date?” and was met with a death glare on Harry’s end.

Liam and Louis arrived just before the chicken was ready to be taken out of the oven. Introductions had been briefly exchanged before Harry allowed himself to look at Louis. His heart missed a couple of beats when the older boy put his hand on the small of his back to lean in and whisper “Thanks for the chicken”. As if Harry could ever say no to Louis.

The dinner was served accompanied by a round of applause and an approving groan from Louis. The conversation flowed easily - Louis and Niall were natural charmer, and Liam was surely good at telling Lisa embarrassing stories about her boy. Harry took it all in, a peaceful expression on his face. He had given in to Lisa’s insistence and taken a small sip of the expensive wine she had brought, figuring he was safe in there, surrounded by all of his best friends. When he had told Louis about Nick not liking him drunk, he had lied. Nick didn’t mind him being a bit tipsy, not at all. On the other hand, Harry didn’t like to have Nick’s hand all over his body and being to drunk to put up resistance. So he hardly ever drank again, after a couple of bad nights because of too many drinks.

“Alright, babe?” Louis whispered, resting his hand on Harry’s lap under the table.

“Y-yeah, sorry” he staggered, smiling a bit too wide to look credible. “‘Zoned out.”

“I’m much more a dog person” Liam was saying, sitting across from him “A billion of people have told me that I look like a puppy, so, there’s also that.”

“You do look like a puppy!” Lisa cried out, taking another sip from Niall’s glass, the last one filled with wine.

“I think the only cat person in here is Harry.” Louis interrupted, eyes fixed on him.

Everyone turned around to face him. “What?” he shrugged, raising both his hands. “They are fluffy and don’t need to be taken for walks. Independence and cuddles, what else would you want from a pet?”

“Ohhh please, Hazza. Cats are so snobby. It always looks like they’re judging you. A dog would just love you, no matter what”. Liam did look like a puppy, all pouty because he had apparently taken it personally.

“He’s right, Harry. I’ll introduce you to Zenith and Nadir when you come over to mines. I promise you’ll like them”.

“You called your dogs as astronomical points? How cool is that?” Harry’s eyes were lit with interest. _Nadir. Lowest point._ His mind supplied, repeating what he had learnt in class no more than a year before. _Nadir_. It felt so appropriate to describe his situation that the thought of it made him shiver. _Nadir_.

“Oh my god, you’re the first one who’s ever noticed!” Lisa was leaning across the table now, trying to fist-bump Harry’s hand. They both smiled and started talking about astronomy and Arabic scientists. He didn't notice when Niall mouthed "I told you" to the others and the three of them shared a knowing smile.

**  
**  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Gone

**IV**

**Gone**

Louis was alright.

Harry was getting better.

Niall was in love.

Liam was studying harder than ever to get top grades in all of his classes.

Sometimes Louis was more than alright: when Harry called him before bed because he missed his voice; when Harry asked him another slice of pizza because he was feeling hungry; when Harry texted him all those little  _x_ s and heart emojis.

He knew that relying so deeply on Harry for his happiness was an extremely dangerous game to play, especially because Harry himself was walking on a thin line, his well being so precarious and unstable. Louis wasn’t strong enough to get away from it, though: he had patiently waited for Harry, without any mention to the fact that he was so caught up in the curly boy, for over a year. He had sat back and tried to forget about him without interfering with his relationship. He didn’t know that the above-mentioned relationship was more like a cage than a nest.   
He didn’t want to rush things, or to force Harry into a new relationship so soon. He could tell by the way Harry was feeling that something about Nick hurt Harry so deeply that a month had not been enough to pick up the pieces. He was not in a hurry. As long as Harry was happy and felt comfortable, he was happy as well.

Sometimes comfortable meant snuggling under a blanket on Louis sofa, and that was okay.

Sometimes it meant crying for no reason at all or not touching, and that was okay, too.

Louis just wished he knew how to help him with all of his crisis. He did some research, but all he could come up with were some breathing exercises and the awareness that Harry needed help from a professional, but he never mentioned it and probably didn’t have enough money to pay for it.

Louis was alright.

But sometimes he wasn’t.

*

There was a red "9:36" flashing in red on the bedside table alarm when Louis' life started spiralling out of control.

It had started as a lazy, Saturday morning: awake at 8, a quick jog around the neighbourhood, breakfast with cornflakes and an apple, a long hot shower.

He felt extremely productive, considering it was a Saturday: the text he woke up to had filled his heart with happiness and resolution.

_From: Harry [7:37 am]_

_can I come over at 6?? dont feel like third wheeling niall - Lisa is coming for dinner again_

__

He had replied "sure" followed by a couple of exclamation marks a ton of heart emojis.

He was ending the third sentence of his essay due in a fortnight when he heard a loud knock at his door.

Not expecting anyone, he figured it was his neighbour, asking him once again to kill a spider in her apartment - Laura was a nice girl and all, but she had to start taking care of the unwanted visitors by herself, in Louis' humble opinion.

He certainly was surprised to find her in tears. He remembered thinking "wow, that must be a giant spider!" and struggling to hide the smile that was starting to curve his lips.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, amusement lighting up his eyes.

Without speaking, she let herself in, handing Louis a piece of paper.

He took a glance: he could tell it was expensive paper by the weight of it.

He read "Hurley - attorney at law" and shook his head, confused.

He quickly read through the letter, taking in just a few words:

EVICTION NOTICE

PLEASE TAKE NOTE […] BUILDING MUST BE COMPLETELY VACATED [...] 90 DAYS.

Louis felt his heart sink and his stomach clench. What was that supposed to mean?

He double checked the address and the addressee, the content of the letter and the date written in bold at the bottom of the page.

He had to leave the apartment by the day of his birthday.

As his brain processed the news, he crashed on the couch next to Laura and hugged her close.

****  
  


He had moved in on a Thursday. He could exactly recall the feelings in his heart the moment his mum stepped out of the apartment, gently closing the door behind her.

He had felt a rush of adrenaline, the excitement of living on his own mixing up with the terror of being a grown up.

The house had seemed so, so silent without his sisters constantly fighting or playing with each other and he had instantaneously called his friends to cheer him up. He couldn't sleep alone his new bed for five days, he had called his mum every time he had gone grocery shopping for the better part of the first month.

All in all, it was good. He loved to be able to call this place his own, to be so independent in his early twenties. It made him proud of himself.

That apartment was so full of memories - good and bad, and all the way in between - that leaving it felt like betraying a friend.

Laura felt the same, even more scared of not finding somewhere else to go and of moving back to Italy, her native country.

They managed to calm down a bit: they had time to look for another place to stay, and Louis could always find a job to make a higher rent affordable. Laura could stay to a friend's for a few weeks: this meant she had at least four months to find an apartment.  

They got this.

Louis’ mood was a lot better by 10:54.

That’s when fate decided to play with him a little dirtier.

He was making tea for Laura when he heard his phone going off in the other room. “‘Lottie’ is calling!” Laura informed him. Louis raised an eyebrow in disbelief, because Lottie  _texted_ , never called. He ran to get it anyway, figuring it had to be something important.

“Hello?”

“Lou, Lou. Thank God. Mum…” a loud sob “Car accident. Lou. They wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. Please come home?”.

Louis was already rushing out of the apartment, panic and adrenaline flowing through his veins while he managed to call Liam.

“Liam. I need you to drive me home.”

“What the fuck, Louis? You could at least make it sound like a request, not an ord-”

“Liam. Liam. There’s been an accident. Mom’s involved. Please Liam. I’m coming at yours.”

“Oh my- Shit. Okay, I’m coming. We’ll talk in the car.”

“Okay. Quick, Liam”

“Louis, breathe. I’m on my way.”

He gathered enough lucidity to shoot Laura a text asking her to lock his apartment and keep the keys until his return.

Six minutes later, Liam pulled over and he jumped in the car, finally allowing himself to breathe.

It was a silent drive.

Louis was grateful for all the breathing exercises he had read about.

*

“I’m really, really sorry Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Is she gone?”

“Yes. She was in a lot of pain. It’s better off this way.”

*

Louis was not alright.

He was trying to keep it together, that’s for sure. He had been since  _that_  day, because he was the elder and all of his sisters were counting on him now that mom was gone. Did it feel surreal? Yes. When things got rough (like, for example, when Phoebe decided not to eat for two days straight) his first instinct had been to call Kate and ask her how to handle it. He tried, once, just to hear his mother’s recorded voice informing him that she was busy. “I’ll call you back!” She promised, her voice gleeful and light.

She never did.

He was having a hard time being the adult in charge of everything when he couldn’t even sort himself out. He hadn’t had time to just stop and  _think_  about what happened yet: there was always someone to hold, someone to comfort, someone to help getting ready for school even though it was a rough day.

He still had two days at home before leaving for college. His aunt was going to take care of the girls while he was away, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about paying a babysitter or leaving them with a complete stranger. He didn’t want to go back to his silent apartment: he’d rather not have much time to dwell on his thoughts for too long.

_Mom is gone._  He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. He couldn’t remember the last thing they said to each other, as well: probably “Bye. Love you”. Such an insignificant thing to say, right? He never wanted to be insignificant again. But at the same time, it was much easier to pretend that he didn’t care.   
Funny was easy, wasn’t it? He could do funny. Funny meant no one worried about him, because he looked fine. And he didn’t need anyone, anyway.

Okay, maybe at night sometimes he got lonely and nostalgic - but that was only because he had no one to hold him, and his bedroom was so close to his mom’s that he would usually be able to hear her snoring, but not  _now_ , not  _anymore_ ,  _never_   _again_.

So he always fell asleep with his earphones on: sometimes the music got loud enough to cover up his thoughts.

Liam was smiling his tired smile when he opened the door. Louis was engulfed in two tight hugs - Niall was there, too - and then escorted to his own kitchen.

“Harry really wanted to come, y’know” Niall said, looking nervously at his hands. Louis answered with a non-committal noise. He had so much to worry about, right now. Like, for example, the reason why Fiz was screaming something about Math’s uselessness in the other room. He casted an apologetic glance at the guys and made his way to the living room, where she was crying desperately, her head bent on her copybook.

“What’s wrong, love?” Louis asked, his hand already circling her back in a soothing manner.

“I don’t get it and tomorrow I’m gonna fail this fucking exam and honestly I don’t even care about it but it’s important and I should care right?” she was a sobbing mess by the time she was done speaking, and Louis was feeling so helpless that he felt tears prickling at his eyes as well.

“Let’s try to calm down, okay? I’ll help you out.”

“But you’re leaving in no time…” another sob.

“The guys will wait. Actually” he turned towards the kitchen “ _Liam! Can you come here for a sec?_ ” He shouted, a smile curling his lips. Liam emerged from the kitchen, quickly followed by  a confused Niall. “Liam is a genius or something. Here, Lime, would you help Fiz with this stupid Math exercise?”.

“Of course. You and Niall can go, now, we’ve got this” Liam stated, winking playfully at Fiz, who was already drying her cheeks on her sleeve.

“How are you feeling?” Niall asked as soon as the kitchen door was closed behind them.

“Fine.” Louis knew how to play this game: he had practiced it at least four hundred times in the last three weeks.

“ _Louis_ ”. Only, those people were not Louis’ best friend and probably weren’t close enough to really care about his answer being true.

“Really, Ni. It’s just… I’m worried about the girls. They don’t know Aunt Claire that well, and-”.

“ _Louis_ ” Niall cut him mid-sentence “I asked about  _you_. You can tell me about the girls later. And I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Uh-uh. Okay. I’m fine, I guess? Sometimes it’s hard. But I don’t think I’ve realised, that she’s, like, gone. I keep forgetting about it. The other day I set the table for six people, Ni. Sometimes I call her” he hid his face in his hand, slowly shaking his head.

“Sh, Louis. It’s alright” Niall hugged him, slowly moving his hands on his back.

“... It’s so hard without her, y’know? I have no idea of what I’m doing. I’m trying to be a good substitute for her, but I’m so helpless. I’m not good enough to raise them.”

“Louis. No one expects you to take your mom’s place. Your sisters know you’re trying your best. And you’re doing a great job, okay? Honestly. You cooked for them for  _three_   _weeks_  and you managed to avoid any fire, yeah? That is  _huge_  for your standards, Lou”.

Louis managed a laugh. “But we had pizza twice a week. She never let us.”

“See? You even worry about eating healthy. Wait for Harry to hear this! You’re a proper adult now.”

“Not an adult.” He replied quickly.  _Not an adult_.

“Not an adult.” Niall repeated without letting go of him. “Okay.”

They stayed like that for a while. When Louis managed to stop crying, he offered to make tea. With his back turned to Niall, he sniffled and dried his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt. “How is Lisa?”

“Good. She’s been asking about you.”

“Tell her I said hi. Did you ask her out on a proper date?”

“Yeah, a couple of days ago. We’re going out on Friday. To the Italian place on Mulligan Street.”

“Fancy!” Louis giggled. “I’ll lend you my shirt. They won’t let you in if you show up wearing one of your ragged band t-shirts.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Niall wasn’t that good at sounding offended, though, because Louis could tell he was smiling even without looking. "And these are Harry's, too, anyway."

"He didn't go to get his stuff yet?" Louis asked, genuinely surprised. They had talked about it, and Harry had told him he wanted to go on Monday, before everything came crashing down.

"Nah. He's not doing that well. Regression, I think?" Niall shrugged.

"Mh. Makes sense." Of all things, Louis was feeling guilty. Harry had counted on him to get better and he had practically disappeared for almost a month. He had his reasons, of course: taking care of four teenagers was hard enough to keep him busy day and night. Harry had texted him everyday, several variations of "how are you?" And "I miss you". Louis had tried to answer to each one of them, but at some point during the first week he had gotten sick of all of the other texts and Facebook posts on his wall and had turned down his phone for a couple of days. Harry had not seemed to mind.

"Don't worry about it, though. He'll be alright. He started talking to a professional."

"That's good."  _I'll probably need one, as well, when things are settled. This situation will make me go mental._  They sit silently for the next few minutes, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts too feel awkward.

There was a rustling coming from behind the closer door, and then a loud thump.

“You’re cheating!” Fiz voice screamed indignant.

“Am not!” Liam answered, pushing the kitchen door open. “I won, anyway” he remarked, casting a dull glance at Fiz, who was now smiling playfully, leaning against the door frame.

Apparently, Liam had been a good teacher. Fiz was no longer crying nor panicking: she had finally understood most of the exercises she was supposed to solve, and even if her grade wasn’t going to be excellent, she wasn’t going to fail, either. Small victories: Louis could go with that.

Louis let himself in, keys clicking against the doorknob and eyes swollen from all the crying. Saying goodbye to his sisters had been the hardest thing: he couldn’t stop thinking about how this could be the last time he saw them, no matter how illogical and stupid he knew it was.

Lottie had cried on his shoulder for two minutes straight, whispered “I’m gonna miss you so much” and run to her room.

Fiz had hugged him, murmuring against his t-shirt “Come back soon, Tommo. And bring Liam, too.”. He had ruffled her hair with a conspiratory look in his eyes, so she quickly added “Niall, as well.”

The twins wouldn’t let go of him. They had followed him to the car, ignoring Aunt Claire protests, and he had to promise on his life to come and visit every other weekend to be able to get in the car. They had waited on the driveway long before he had disappeared after the first turn. Lottie told him it took them three hours to make it back inside. He had cried some more.

The house was silent, but he could already smell the familiar scent of his apartment.

He took a shower, started the washing machine and watched an episode of Mythbusters before forcing himself to have some dinner. Laura had asked him if she could take care of his apartment while he was away: not only she had cleaned and kept it in good conditions, but she had also gone grocery shopping as soon as he told her that he was on his way back. He made a mental note to get her a present to pay her back for being so sweet.

He opened the fridge and found a tupperware containing some pasta and with a post-it taped on the lid.

_Figured you’d need something to cheer you up… Food: a very italian remedy that always does the trick. Hope it’ll help. You know where to find me if you need anything!_

_xxx Laura_

Of all the help he had gotten to this point - which was a lot, by the way - this made him feel even more grateful. Back home, he knew that all of the support was out of pity and directed mostly to his sisters - and he couldn’t complain or refuse it because of his pride, because he  _needed_  it. But here… he could tell that Laura had done so much because he cared about him and loved him, and not because she felt like she had to. She had won a special place in his heart, right between the boys and Harry, in just a year.

He ate the pasta sitting on the kitchen counter, the silence of the empty apartment making him feel so, so small.

He fell asleep on the couch two hours later, feeling a bit better.

The last thing he thought before drifting away was that the pasta was partly responsible for his better mood: it hadn't been the food to help, but the awareness of the fact that somebody loved him so much to cook for him, just the way his mum had done.

It was a nice sensation.

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> So... poor Louis, right? I'm being a bit of a sadist, but I was inspired by a quote I read a while ago: "No matter how innocent or affable the character is, throw everything you have at them, so that the reader can see what they're made of."  
> I want to thank everyone who was kind enough to comment or leave a kudos - you are amazing and I'm so grateful to have readers that appreciate my work.   
> I hope you liked the chapter!  
> Lots of love,   
> xxx  
> Sil


	5. Blindness

**V**

**Blindness**

_From: Harry [5:02pm]_

_hey Lou! Liam told me you got back from home yesterday. Can you come visit? I want to see you. I missed you_

__

_To: Harry [5:02pm]_

_hey Haz. Can U come visit? need to unpack my stuff_

__

_From: Harry [5:02pm]_

_Mh. ok I’ll let you know_

__

_*_

__

_To: Liam [5:02pm]_

_can u pick me up?_

__

_From: Liam [5:04pm]_

_hey haz! Yeah sure where r we going?_

__

_To: Liam [5:05pm]_

_I need to talk to louis_

_From: Liam [5:05pm]_

_Yeah u really do_

__

*

"So. Niall told me you're seeing a professional." They had already hugged, talked about how they were doing, about Louis' sisters, about how amazing Laura had been. They both hated this kind of small talks: full of shit and lies and fake questions. At the same time, though, they were terrified of asking the real ones, afraid of throwing the other off balance and scaring him away. The conversation had eventually slowed down, and Louis had decided that he couldn't put it off anymore.

"Uhm, yeah. Yeah. She's nice." Harry started picking at his nails, something Old Louis would have stopped with a few soothing words. New Louis was too busy fighting the physical need of asking Harry to be held. "She's helping with, mh, my recovery. When- when you left, it got s-so much w-worse."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"Not your fault."

They both kept quiet for a while, neither of them looking in the other's direction.

"I-I tried to c-come. T-to the funeral." Harry was shaking now, his shoulders hunched in as if he was trying to make himself small.

"I know. Liam told me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." ~~_No it's not no it's not no it's not._~~

"No it's not."

"It's too late." Cold. Louis couldn't deal with the turmoil of emotions in his chest in that moment, so he shut them off.

"Just tell me how to m-make it up for you, Lou. Please. I'm so so so sorry." Harry was crying now, finally looking up from his hands.

"Doesn't matter. You couldn't deal with it, I get it." Was he annoyed? Not really. But he had never spoken to Harry so harshly before. So Harry probably thought he was.

"But I'm t-trying. I swear, I am. That's why I started seeing Su-Susie. I hated my-myself so much for n-not being there for y-you."

"Listen, Harry. You don't have to prove me anything, okay? You have to do all of these things for you. Not for me or whoever."

“I know. It’s j-just… You’ve been by my s-side through all. All of this, I m-mean.” He had to stop for a while to stop hiccuping. “I just want to h-help you.”

“I’m fine, Haz, really.”

“No, you’re not. You- you’ve been off all night. Can w-we talk about it?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Okay. Can we have some tea first?”

 

****  
  


“I’m not mad, Haz, I swear I’m not. It’s just. Uhm. I think I feel a bit disappointed? And I know it’s not your fault, and that makes me feel guilty as well. Because I shouldn’t force you in doing things you can’t deal with. But, uhm. I felt like I really needed you, right? And I probably shouldn’t be saying this stuff to you. Sorry, forget about it. I’m just a selfish prick.”

“No, Lou. I think you’re making a lot of sense right now.”

“I’m still sorry for saying that. You don’t need another burden to carry.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not a burden. And I’m sorry for not being strong enough. I’m working on that.”

"I... Know. As long as you think that going there will make you feel better, I'll go with that. But... Please. Don't do it for me."

Harry just slowly nodded, his legs swinging from the kitchen counter. They had drunk a couple of tea mugs and shared some pasta leftover in complete silence, until Harry had broken the impasse by whispering a shy "So...?". It had taken Louis two full minutes to gather an answer: Harry had waited without looking up from his hands.

"Okay, Lou. But I'm still sorry."

"Haz, please stop saying that."

"Okay."

Harry left twenty minutes later, after a text from Liam that said that he was waiting outside.

Harry had repeated "Okay." and left, Louis' goodbye just a weak "Bye.".

*

“Can you hear us, Louis? Lou? Are you there? We can’t see you yet!” Daisy’s voice almost screamed from his laptop, the Skype window still loading.

“One moment, love! Be patient” Louis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smiling at the screen in anticipation. His sisters’ faces appeared in the lowest quality possible, their noses a bit too close to the monitor and already wearing their pajamas.

“Here you are, Lou!” his aunt smile was as broad as her face “We were starting to lose faith.”

“Uhm, sorry, I had to- clean up”. _I had to stop crying and to change into something that was not the same t-shirt I’ve been wearing since I left three days ago._ “How are you, girls?”

The line went silent, until Fiz spoke up. “Tired.”

Lottie: “We miss you.”

“I miss you too, girls. So much. I’m sorry that I can’t be with you. How is school?” he had to change subject if he didn’t want to end up crying like a baby again. Three times in two hours? No thanks.

“Daisy and I got top marks on the Science test we took two weeks ago” Phoebe answered, her gaze lowered. She hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, Louis noticed.

“That’s brilliant! I’m proud of you” Louis tried to sound excited. In his opinion, he had sounded quite convincing.

“Mrs. Riley wants to speak to you the next time you’ll come to town. She said something about the grieving process and how to deal with” Lottie gestured at the people surrounding her “us.”

_As if I needed another word on denial and bargaining. I read every possible article and went through most of the stages myself. No need to worry: I know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Riley._ Louis thought to himself, but he still attempted to smile and assure her that he would have taken care of it. The rest of the call went smoothly and Daisy also managed to make them all stifle a laugh at some point halfway through.

When they said goodbye, his mood couldn’t be worse. There was something about hearing their voices that made Louis feel home - like he never left, like he wasn’t alone in facing this scary thing called “night” in an empty apartment that his mother only visited three times, not enough to picture her singing while making dinner or asleep on the sofa with the TV on.

There were no tangible proof that she had existed at all in here, just a picture in the hallway that no one ever noticed and a book that she left there the last time she visited. There were no memories of her putting on make-up on her way to work or to a date; nothing about days spent in bed after the _umpteenth_ break up; not even a recollection of her irritating habit of drying her hair at 6 in the morning.

He dragged himself to bed, plugging his charger in his phone and starting to scroll through his Facebook feed out of habit. He soon had to close the app: he had at least 13 unread messages that he knew the content of without having to read them.

He sent a single text before turning the lights off. It read:

_To: Phoebe [11:37 pm]_

_i miss her too, love. I know you’re trying your best to be strong, but don’t worry if you feel like crying sometimes… it’s completely ok. I do that sometimes, too. we love you, dumpling. xxx_

Several kilometres away, she read the text and fell asleep still clutching her phone, a single tear soaked in the pillow.

The morning after, Louis woke up with a headache and three unread messages from Liam. He answered with short and simple sentences before getting into the shower and spending half an hour under the warm water stream. He got dressed quickly, ran a hand through his hair to brush them back and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. He was going to meet with Liam for lunch, but he had to eat something before heading to class if he didn’t want to faint halfway through his second class.

The bus was full, so he slowly shuffled to the back and put his headphones on.

He just had a couple of classes that morning, but after a month of no textbooks to read or notes to take it still felt like too much. It could help him to take his mind off, though, so he had forced himself to get out of bed and go to lesson.

The day went smoothly: Liam talked him into signing up for the gym, so they stopped there on their way back from lunch. Louis had had a really confusing talk with his family’s accountant the week before. Apparently, they had enough money to get by until he graduated, but he needed to find a summer job (possibly, two) and to cut down on expenses that were not necessary. His college fee was half paid by his scholarship, but that meant having top grades in every assignment and subject: sometimes he felt like the pressure was driving him insane. So, yeah, he could use some time spent working out, especially if Liam had found two coupons that allowed him to go for free for the first three months.

Back in Doncaster, he had always been part of the school football team. He missed the feeling of physical exhaustion after a long training, or the way his teammates cheered him when he scored. He was feeling so lonely, in a city that seemed to be too big for anyone to really belong there, despite having his best friends by his side.

He quickly shoot Fiz and Lottie a text asking for updates and Snapchatted Laura a pic of Liam’s bum, “ _I know u want it!_ ” written in small letters at the bottom of the screen. He and Liam went grocery shopping, their carts filled with sweets, frozen pizzas and beer packs.

“Harry would so disapprove” Liam giggled, pointing at their purchases.

“Yeah, he would. Speaking of which” he stood on his tiptoes to reach the higher shelf “how do you think he is doing?” He put the Nutella jar in the cart with a soft thud.

“He’s much better than when you left. Not really my business, but he didn’t eat a thing for three days because he couldn’t come to the funeral. He’s really… He cares a lot, y’know? I think he hates himself because he can’t be by your side. He gets really frustrated, especially because it’s all in his head.” Liam had always been the logical one, in the group. He liked to analyze every situation in details, trying to figure out the underlying reasons to everyone’s behaviour. He was going to make a good psychologist, Louis was sure of it.

“I don’t blame him, I get that it’s not his fault and that this past relationship was, like, abusive and unhealthy. It’s just. I need to focus on my family now, y’know? I like him. I really do, Liam, and you all know it. But my family comes first now.” He swallowed loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly under the collar of his jacket. “I can’t take care of him anymore, even if I wish I could.”

“Louis.” Liam breathed out a frustrated grumble. “You really can’t see it, can you? Sometimes I think you are blind. Or retarded. Or both.” He started walking down the aisle, dodging away from a kid running away from his mom. “Harry knows that he is a mess. He knows his anxiety and panic attacks are an important issue, something that can’t be ignored. Why do you think he started seeing that _shrink_?” Louis cackled at that, because Liam seemed to be disgusted by himself for referring to his future profession with that term. “You’re helpless, you know that? If you can’t see it, I’ll tell you.” Louis nodded quickly, curious and worried. “He doesn’t want this to be about himself. He doesn’t want to be taken care of: he wants to be able to take care of you.”

Louis didn’t say anything. What Liam had just said didn’t make any sense: _Harry_ was the broken one, the one who needed a shoulder to cry on and someone to lean on when he couldn’t deal with himself any longer. Louis was _fine_. Maybe a bit shaken, but that was completely normal after such an important loss. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Especially not Harry, that was already so overburdened by his worries.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Li.”

“ _Louis_. Don’t play games with me. We both know everyone does. And if you’re too proud to admit that, fine. But you can’t deny that Harry cares about you on a completely different level.” Liam stopped in front of the frozen food section for the second time in ten minutes. His eyes lazily scanned the products, before picking up another pizza and throwing it in his cart. “Let him in, Lou. You both could use some help.”

Louis didn’t say anything for the rest of the afternoon. When they said goodbye, Liam apologized for having been so straightforward. Louis hugged him tight. “I think I needed someone to say those things out loud, Li. Thanks.”

Louis rarely thanked people, but when he did, he meant it.

As the night approached, Louis could feel the nervousness rise in his bones. It was relatively easy to shut down his thoughts in sunlight, but when it got dark they got so persistent that he couldn’t even turn down their volume.

The chat with Liam had confused him even more, and his mind was struggling with keeping up with his thoughts, darting in a thousand different directions at the same time. He knew it was going to be a long night, so he decided to follow Liam’s advice and ask for help.

His phone was silent on the bedside table, almost as if it was waiting for Louis to pick it up and start typing. He gave in: his fingers fumbled over the screen to open Whatsapp and his thumb pressed “H” before he could think about it.

_To: Harry [11:56pm]_

_hey, whats up? sorry for the other day, i was being a prick._

__

_From: Harry [11:56pm]_

_no worries. feeling better? x_

__

_To: Harry [11:56pm]_

_...kind of._

__

_From: Harry [11:57pm]_

_it’s too late to drop by, but I think a bit of company could help. Do you want to skype for a bit?_

__

_To: Harry [11:57pm]_

_sure. classes tomorrow though_

__

_From: Harry [11:58pm]_

_me too, won’t take long xx_

__

Their call lasted exactly one hour, fourtyseven minutes and fifteen seconds. Harry’s face took up the whole screen and his stupid dimple looked even deeper when Louis could hold it in his hands, and Harry made fun of Louis because apparently he was unable to balance his phone on his thighs for more than half a minute. Harry had lost count of how many times it had fallen down the bed.

They had both been pretty formal at the beginning, because they were not used to video-chatting with each other. They had never needed to: they had always lived close, and even if sometimes they hadn’t seen each other for weeks, none of them had ever thought of this sort of virtual meeting.

Louis’ voice sounded even better, filtered by the internet and Harry’s headphones: he’d had made a great singer, in Harry’s opinion. When he said it out loud, Louis broke down in a loud and unexpected laugh. “Babe, you’ve never heard me sing. You’d change your mind.”

The conversation had flown easily, and the long silences had never been awkward or uncomfortable: Louis loved to hear Harry’s breath beneath the static sound of the connection. It made him feel closer, without the risks that came with being that close to someone as fragile as Harry. He seemed to be much more confident, as well, with no physical contact involved or eyes to look directly into. They had said goodbye in a whisper, because Harry didn’t want to wake Niall up from where he was sleeping in his room.

_Bless Niall and his excellent wifi connection_ , Louis thought, silently thanking him for the clear image of Harry’s face on his phone screen.

The room was silent again, now, the distant sound of traffic nothing more than a background noise he barely registered. Louis shifted in his bed a couple of times before finding his usual position. It took him another half an hour to fall asleep, even though he felt exhausted: his mind couldn’t get over the sound of Harry’s sleepy voice whispering him “goodnight” over the white noise.

****  
  



	6. Fresh starts

**VI**

**Fresh starts**

****  
  


Harry let himself in, his breath shaking and his eyes watering.

_It’s alright_ , he repeated in his head, _Niall is waiting for me outside. The office confirmed that he is away for the weekend. It’s gonna be fine._

He made his way through the living room, trying not to touch anything. It felt so weird to think that he had lived there for two years: every corner of the apartment held some kind of memory, making it harder to breath normally.

He slowly opened the bedroom door, tears already spilling out of his eyes. He forced himself to walk to the wardrobe and he stood on his tiptoes to reach the top of it until his fingers touched the cold plastic of his red trolley case. Nick’s smell was particularly strong in that room, and it filled his nostrils even more when he opened the closet door, but he tried to ignore it.

As he fished out a pair of jeans, he asked himself how Nick was doing without him.

Nick, a successful lawyer apprentice, who still couldn’t cook anything but pasta and couldn’t even iron his own shirts. It had always made him proud, to think that Nick _needed_ him, that Harry was so important to his existence that he relied on him almost completely.

His mind went to all the meals they had shared since they had moved in together, to Nick’s warm smiles when Harry cooked him his favourite dish.

It was hard to leave it all behind: after all, four years couldn’t be washed away or forgotten overnight.

It hadn’t always been bad: they’d used to laugh all the time, to prank each other when they were mad, to organize surprise dates with red wine and candles, to buy gifts for no reason at all.  
 _That_ was the Nick he had fallen in love with, not the one who shouted at him because he had forgotten his warm his dinner up, not the one who refused to talk for days if Harry didn’t feel like having sex, not the one who had shoved Harry down the stairs because he had gone out with his friends. That time, he had stayed because Nick had apologized right after, picking him up and driving him to the hospital without letting go of his hand.

Harry gathered all of his t-shirts and threw them in the suitcase letting go a deep sigh.

He sat on his side of the bed, opening the top drawer of the bedside table. He slowly pulled out a grey box, his fingers hesitantly tracing the lid, his head slightly bent to the right. He lifted the lid, a single tear running down his cheek in a curved path.

A train ticket to London, dated January 27th.

A picture, edges smudged, of Nick and Harry hugging in front of the sea, his hair much shorter and his smile much wider.

A green card, “Happy birthday!” spelled in blue letters just above a shining “17” bordered in gold.

And then, buried under layers of memories and forgotten feelings, five pages neatly folded in four, each one marked with a red “H” on the right top corner.

Love letters.

Nick had written him so many of those, back when they both lived in Chesire and their love was to be hidden behind shy smiles and blushing cheeks.

He had read them quite often, when Nick was mad at him for what felt like no reason at all.

He would cry, eyes trained on the small uneven letters, sleeves rolled down on his bruises, his mind stuck on a single thought: _This is Nick. Nick loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me. It was my fault_ , knowing, deep down, that what he was doing was pathetic and shaming. The lies he wanted to believe in, though, were those sweet words written in the letters, “ _yours, -N_ ” to end each one of them. That box was the keeper of his memories with Nick, every moment of their relationship hung between those words, their love displayed for everyone to see.

He quickly placed the box back in the drawer, as if it was burning his fingers. He shut it closed, wishing that his feelings were so easy to hold back as well.

He went on collecting his clothes, then poured himself a glass of cold water from the sink. He washed it under running water and put it back in place, feeling like a stranger in his own house. He went back to the living room, where all of his books were stacked in high piles against the walls or messily piled above the shelves.   
He had hundreds of books, so many he soon realized that he wouldn’t have been able to carry them all back to Niall’s flat. He felt tears at the back of his eyes as he understood that he would have had to choose between them: leaving them behind, to deal on a such a monster on their own, felt a lot like betraying an old friend who had always been there for him (no matter of the bruises, or the inability to stop shaking. No matter of the tears or the smell of sex still lingering around him). He carefully chose five books, balancing them on the top of each other, his eyes still on the rest of them scattered on the floor. He walked away from the crime scene, back to the bedroom, to put them in the suitcase and leave the apartment.

Something caught his eye, and he stopped in his track.

The bed was still unmade on Nick’s side, a mug placed on his bedside table.

_His_ mug.

The mug he had bought him last year, when he had gone home to visit his parents for the weekend. He could still read “ _yours_ ”, letters fading from black to grey on the side. He made the bed, softly tucking the duvet under the mattress.

He took out the box from his drawer, placed it on Nick’s soft pillow and kissed it on the top.

He walked backwards to the door, flicking the lights off as he whispered a soft goodbye.

*

_February 27th_

__

_Dear Harry,_

_I’ve never written an actual letter before, so forgive me if it doesn’t turn out as flawless as I’d like it to be (I promise I’ll practice!). I just wanted to tell you how amazing this first month together has been - I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I wish we could run away from this stupid little town and finally be ourselves, without the constant worry of being caught or of our parents finding out._

_I’m very close to coming out to my family, Harry, I swear. Then you’ll be able to come over for dinner and hold my hand on the table, no more need to hide even inside our houses. I can’t wait to be able to call you “my boyfriend” in front of everyone._

__

_[...]_

****  
  
  


Harry got out of the building in a rush, almost running towards the bench Niall was sitting on, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and arms folded on his chest. Without saying a word, he stood up and hugged Harry tight, taking the suitcase from him and making his way towards the bus stop.

“You alright?”

They were already sitting on the bus, Niall shoulder brushing against his, a weird sense of reassurance radiating from the contact.

“Sort of.” His fingertips were tracing an intricate pattern on the fabric of his trousers. “Hey, Niall. Thank you.”

“Anytime, mate.”

*

_May 15th_

_[...]_

__

_I love you so much, Harry. I can’t believe I was so scared of telling you something as simple as this: I’m in love with you. I’m so lucky to be yours… and I honestly don’t care if my dad doesn’t approve. We’ve got each other, and this is more than enough. More than enough._

****  
  
  


Harry got in the shower as soon as they got home. He felt dirty after having touched all of his old stuff. It was like Nick had got under his skin and he had to scratch it off with his fingers before he could get to the core.

His shower was going to be a long one. He soaped his whole body four times, rinsing his skin with hot water that left his body patched in red.

He cried for a while, the stream washing away the tears without being able to stop them. The body scourer was starting to leave swollen traces on his skin, but he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing over each spot again and again, trying to wash away every _I love you, Harry. I’m sorry_ and never, never getting deep enough to do so.

*

_August 21st_

__

_[...]_

__

_I promise I’ll take care of you. I know our parents think we are just blindly in love (which, by the way, is completely true), but they don’t know how much we look out for each other everyday, already. We are meant to be together and I’m willing to fight for us: no matter what it takes, love, I’ll take care of you._

__****  
  
  


“Harry! I’m going to get some pizza. I’ll get you the pineapple one?” Niall shouted from behind the closed door. Harry had gotten out of the shower and was towelling his body, looking out for signs of Nick’s presence on his skin (bruises, bite marks, sometimes scratches).

“I’m not that hungry” he answered, but he wasn’t sure Niall heard him.

_Nothing. It’s been a month. Nothing lasted more than a few days. He is gone._

Except he wasn’t. He was everywhere: under Harry’s nails, in the hollow above his collarbones, on his bottom lip.  

He grabbed his body lotion. He had to get him off of his skin: he couldn’t do anymore knowing that Nick was still _there_ , somehow, ready to take over Harry’s thoughts once again.

When Niall came back, twenty minutes later, he was still trying to force himself out of the bathroom.

Niall knocked twice, his voice soft when saying “Harry. What’s wrong, mate? Come out, we can talk it through.” Harry didn’t answer, his hands gripping the sink a bit tighter. Minutes passed, nothing but his breath to prove that he was still alive. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But I’ll wait here.” Harry' right hand ghosted lightly above his left arm, scratching just below his elbow. He was still looking for Nick’s traces.

*

_January 27th_

__

_I’m writing this letter listening to the same song that was playing exactly one year ago, when I finally found the courage to kiss you. You were so clueless! I’ve liked you since I first laid my eyes on you - it was October, I think, and you were on your way home from school, and I was out with a friend to buy cigarettes. My friend knew your name from one of his art courses: soon enough I started to pick him up from those lessons twice a week. I managed to talk to you on a Wednesday. You were beautiful with a smudge of red paint on your cheek and a dimple that only popped up when I made you laugh._

_I knew we were going to get together, love. I’ve felt it from the very beginning. A sort of connection, something that can’t be ignored. We are meant to be together._

****  
  


“Harry. Listen. I know it feel safer in there, but please. Come out? I can make you a cuppa if you don’t feel like eating pizza. We can watch Bake Off together and then listen to some music. Have listened to the new Kodaline’s record? I’ve heard great things about it.” Harry scratched a bit more harshly, his nails leaving red marks on the pale skin. He swallowed twice, forcing to look at his reflection in the mirror. His forehead was shining from all the tiny drops of sweat that were starting to form because of his nervousness.

_Get out of here, Harry. It’s enough. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here._

“… and I know that this is probably inappropriate right now, but I really need a wee.” That made Harry giggle, his lips twitching upwards in a split of second.

He unlocked the door, then washed his hands again. Niall opened the door slowly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes. I’ll get out of here.” Harry hurried out of the bathroom, avoiding eye contact and rushing to his room. When he closed the door behind him, he threw himself on the bed, curling up on his side, trying to take as little room as possible.

*

_May 31st_

__

_WE’RE MOVING IN TOGETHER!!!_

_Oh, love, how wonderful is that? I’m so excited. I’ve never been happier about anything in my life. We are going to have our little house very soon, and I can’t wait to be able to fall asleep and wake up next to you every single day without sneaking around your parents._

_These past few months have been hard for both of us, I know. My father is so full of shit - I can’t stand to live with him any longer. You’re stressed because of your finals, but it’s gonna be over soon… and you’ll do great, anyway._

_Just two months, love. I’m counting the days._

_Everyone asks me if I don’t think it’s too early, but they have no idea of what is happening between us - we’re much more than everybody will ever see._

__

Susie had warned him with soft words and a kind tone a couple of days before.

“There is no easy way out of this. He will come to your mind more often than not, at least for the first few weeks. Even if he was hurting you, he was still a major part of your life. You are not only dealing with the aftermath of violence and abuse, but with the ones of an heartbreak as well.” Susie was nice. She always knew what to say and what to ask: she was one of the most expensive psychologist in town, but she was worth every penny if she could make him feel better. Still, he had to find a job very soon to pay for therapy and rent.

He was trying to stop the urge of scratching his arms when the door cracked open and Niall’s head appeared inside. “Louis and Liam texted asking if they could come over.” He said, a beat too fast to be considered his normal tone. “If that’s alright with you.”

Harry breathed deeply through his nose. “Yeah.” he managed, his body still curled up in a tight ball.

“Great. They’ll be here soon.” Niall closed the door softly and starting humming, making his way to the kitchen. Harry shut his eyes and covered his face with both of his hands.

*

_Oh Harry, I don’t know what the future holds or what it will bring to us. But I’m sure of this: whatever happens between us, I’ll always be a part of you. I’ll never let you go._

_Yours,_

_-N_

__

The door opened again twenty minutes later.

This time, the sound of it creaking was followed by small footsteps and a gentle “Hey, love.”

Harry felt his heartbeat calm down just because of the sound of that voice. _Louis_. How could something go wrong when he was next to him? Harry looked up at him, who was smiling a couple of feet away from the bed. Harry moved over to make room for him.

“Can I?” Louis asked, gesturing towards the bed. Harry nodded twice, trying not to hyperventilate. _He’s Louis. I like Louis. Louis is not Nick, and maybe Louis can make Nick go away._

Louis sat on the bed ten centimetres away from him, and fished his iPhone from the front pocket of his tight black jeans. “So, I thought you needed something to cheer you up.” He smiled and offered an earphone to Harry, who took it with shaking hands.

Louis moved a bit over to lay down next to Harry without touching him, his fingers hovering over the little screen trying to find the right song.

The music started playing. It took Harry four bars to turn over to stare at him in disbelief, his eyes wide and a smile ghosting on his lips.

“What?” Louis grinned, the wrinkles by his eyes getting deeper. “It’s a great song!” he protested, shrugging.

“Lou!” Harry cried out, almost laughing, rolling his eyes; but Louis was already singing and he couldn’t  help but join him in the following verse.

By the end of the song, they were dueting and making funny, intense faces to one other, laying facing each other on their sides. The only light source of the room was the iPhone’s screen that laid abandoned between their bodies.

When the song ended, Louis played it again.

By the time Louis had to leave, they had listened to the entire High School Musical discography at least twice, but nothing beat  their first performance of ‘You are the music in me’.

“You’d make a great Gabriella, y’know” Louis had told him, standing back up from the bed. “With the hair and all.” He yawned covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You kind of look like Zac Efron, as well.” Harry replied easily, looking up at the ceiling. Louis laughed loudly and wished him a goodnight, closing the door behind him.

Nick was still there, probably, right below his left ear or in the crook of his elbow. Harry didn't notice. He had stopped looking.


	7. Chances

**VII**

**Chances**

Liam entered the flat smiling like an idiot, his puppy eyes lit by excitement.

“Soooo” Louis asked, drawing the “o” for a couple of seconds. “What’s so important that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell me about?”

“You have no idea, Louis.” He breathed out, his tone dreamy.

“Of course I have no idea, Liam. You haven’t told me anything yet.” Louis laughed out loud, this time. It was so amusing to see the usually controlled and measured Liam so excited for something. Or… someone.

“He gave me his number!” he shouted, lifting his hand to high five Louis from where he was sitting on the sofa.

“Who?” Louis smiled lazily, shutting his laptop close and to focus completely on Liam.

“The fittest boy I’ve ever seen in my life” Liam closed his eyes, letting a satisfied groan escape his lips as he hugged a cushion to his chest. “He’s this wonderfully sharp cheekbones and his eyes are so pretty and his body - holy shit, Lou, you don’t even know what I’m talking about…”

“Jesus, Liam, breathe. I can look him up on Facebook, if you know his name…?”

“Zane? Zayn? I don’t really know, mate. But I have his number, so who cares anyway?”

“Liam” Louis laughed out, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “What are you gonna do? Just ask him out and take him to Starbucks hoping the cashier will ask for his name?”

Liam laughed at that, shrugging and looking up from his phone. “We’re gonna text him now.”

_To: GG [5:23pm]_

_hey its liam from psych :) u up for a beer next week?_

“GG?” Louis enquired, trying to take a closer look at the phone screen. “What’s that, a nickname?”

“Greek God, Louis. And it’s a _code_ name, Jeez.” The beep of an incoming message made Liam squirm and his eyes widen.

_From: GG [5:24pm]_

_Hi Liam. Yes sure, what about tonight? I’m busy from tomorrow to Wednesday_

“Oh my God, Louis. He said yes. He wants to go _tonight_. I’m not ready. Definitely not ready. How do I get out of it?” Liam was full panicking now, pacing the room with his face hidden behind his hands.

“You don’t.” Louis replied, a glint of mischief to light up his voice. “I just texted him that you’ll meet him at the pub near campus. You can thank me later.” He was waving Liam’s phone just above his head, a playful smile curving his lips upwards.

“I absolutely despise you, Louis Tomlinson.” Liam leapt forward, throwing his full body weight on Louis on the sofa. He struggled to get out of that tangle of arms and legs. They wrestled a bit longer, their giggles getting louder as Liam fell backwards to the floor and Louis hit his head against the armrest.

Liam left some time later, his nervousness obvious in his actions. He promised to send him a picture of his outfit: when he received it, he let out a low whistle. Liam had outdone himself: he was wearing a black t-shirt that was tight enough to reveal his pecs and his ripped jeans made him look like a fashion blogger. That Zayn was going to have a hard time staying away from him, Louis thought. He was hoping Liam and that guy would get along well: a couple of weeks ago Liam had told him that he was feeling so, so lonely that sometimes he couldn’t fall asleep without calling a friend to chat. He lived in a huge apartment downtown by himself. His family owned one of the most successful clothes store in London; money had never been an issue for him, but he never bragged about it or mention the fact that he was _bloody_ rich. Rich like in: _I’m twenty and I own 3 cars, an apartment and 50% of my parents stocks_. He sent a text complimenting him for the outfit choice, turned the phone off and changed into a pair of clean joggers.

He left the apartment balancing two beers in his right hand and knocked twice on Laura’s door. She opened it with a wide grin, hugging him tight and dragging him inside.

“ _Finally_ ” she greeted him, taking a step back and getting the beers from his hand. “Dinner’s almost ready. By the way, what are these? I asked for white wine, Louis.” She let out a disgruntled sound, looking at him with an accusing stare.

“I don’t like white wine. And the beer was on sale, so…” He shrugged, an apologetic smile pasted on his face.

“ _Risotto_ and beer? You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t do this to me, Louis… If my mother finds out, she is going to take away my italian citizenship.” She was hiding her face behind her hands now, stress visibly edging her words.

“Laura, Laura! Breath. Not a big deal.”

“ _Not a big deal_? Huge deal, Louis. Huge.” She was smiling, though, so he took a couple of steps in her direction and ruffled her hair. She squinted away, still complaining about his terrible choices and questioning why they were still friends.

The _risotto_ was so good that Louis ate three servings of it. He had to admit that the beer wasn’t an ideal match, but they soon switched to something stronger from Laura’s provisions.

They were arguing about who deserved the Golden Ball last year when Louis was cut mid sentence by the sound of a phone ringing.

“Sorry, gotta take this. _Pronto_?” Laura stood up from the table and paced to the window, her head ducked down and a faint blush creeping on her cheeks. She was talking in italian, and her voice sounded somehow different from the English speaking one: it was kind of weird how deeper her voice sounded when speaking her native language.

“ _Ciao, amore, buonanotte_.” She hung up and focused on Louis again, sitting back on her chair. “Sorry about that. It was, ehm, my brother.”

“Laura. I don’t know Italian for shit, but I know that _amore_ means ‘love’ and I can tell that you were talking to someone who gives you heart eyes. So, definitely not your brother.”

“Okay, okay… I’ve met him last summer…”

“I'll teach you, okay. But you have to ask him out. The hot curly boy that comes at yours every other day." She smiled easily, taking another long sip from her glass filled to the brim.

"How is that related to learning Italian?" Louis sat down on the carpet crossing his legs.

"It's not. I just think you'd make a cute couple."

"It's complicated." It really was: Harry was this fragile, weak thing. And Louis was drunk, and it was not the best time to think about fragile things now.

"It always is."

"It's different." Of course it was. Harry was… something more. No one could ever compare.

"Different?" She sounded skeptical, at the very least.

"He's... I'm... I have to be careful, with him."

"Okay. Ask him out nicely, then. And buy him flowers." He shook his head amused by her silly advice.

"You're such a dork, Laura."

"I'm just drunk. A toast? To the hot boy. Cheers."

Louis was so, so hangover.

He couldn't even stand without his head spinning like crazy: he felt like someone was hammering the inside of his skull everytime he tried to open his eyes. He had to get up, though. It was Sunday, but he had promised Harry to go the new gelato place that had opened a couple of weeks back to hand in Harry’s CV. He needed to find a job, too, but he was looking for somewhere closer to his place. Well, his place for the next two months, anyway.

He showered briefly, wore his blue jeans and a white t-shirt and grabbed his coat. The sun was hidden behind a cloud, thankfully. He wouldn’t have been able to walk to the bus stop while facing a hopeless battle against sunlight.

“Hey.” Niall greeted him on the door. “Come in. He’s in a great mood today.”

Louis thanked him and followed him to the tiny living room. He hadn’t seen Harry for a few days - since the High School Musical private concert, to be exact - but they had been texting. Louis, however, wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting Harry to be nervous and fidgety, because he had told him that the thought of looking for a job made him uneasy. That was why he had offered to go with him in the first place.

Harry entered the room, holding up two hangers in front of his body. “Which one?”

“White one.” Louis and Niall replied in unison. Harry smiled at them, going back to his room.

When he came out again, he was wearing the white shirt and a pair of black trousers that perfectly fit him. Louis had to force himself to look away.

The gelateria was already filled with customers when they got in. Harry was starting to look a bit nervous, and hesitated for a couple of seconds before getting in.

“Can I get something first?” he asked Louis, eyeing the display of flavours in front of them.

“Sure. I’ll take a table.”

Harry ate his gelato slowly, looking everywhere but at Louis. “Harry. It’s okay. You’ll make a great impression. Now breathe and enjoy your ice-cream.”

“Wh-what if I d-don’t?”

“If you don’t, we’ll find another place. But if you smile your dimples smile they will hire you instantly.” Harry blushed faintly and tried to smile. When he was done with his gelato, he looked up at Louis expectantly.

“What now?” he asked, panic obvious in his voice.

“You go there and tell them that you’re interested in that job they’re offering. If you’re asked of your CV, you give it to them. You smile. You’ll be asked some questions: answer them. Thank them and come back to me. I’ll be waiting right here.” Louis slowly brought his hand next to Harry’s. When he didn’t move his hand away, Louis laced their fingers on the table. “Harry, I’m proud of you. It was so brave of you to come here today. Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re stronger than you think. Now go and get that job!” Harry smiled sheepishly and stood up, taking a couple of hesitant steps backwards towards the cash register.

Louis sat back in his chair as he watched Harry talk to the girl who had served him his ice cream. She looked completely fascinated by the way Harry spoke. Louis couldn’t blame her, really: Harry was the most charming person he had ever met. But he also felt a rush of jealousy towards Harry, who was now following the girl through a door labelled “staff only”. Louis gave him a thumbs up as Harry turned around looking for his face.

While Harry was in the back for his interview ( _what was it all about? It wasn’t like he was going to do much more than giving people gelato anyway_ ) Louis texted both Lottie and Fiz asking how they were doing. His aunt had texted him every day for the past two weeks, updating him on everything the girl had done during the day. They Skyped every Tuesday and Thursday and he was planning to visit them in ten days: he couldn’t wait to hug them again.

Harry came out of the same door ten minutes later, shaking hands with someone hidden from Louis’ sight, and walked back to their table with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m 99% positive that I made it!” Louis stood up to hug him, careful not to grip too tight.

“Well done, babe! See? I told you that you were going to do great. I’m so proud of you.” Harry didn’t pull back, much to Louis’ surprise, but he leaned in closer and rested his head on the crook of his neck.

“Thank you so much, Lou.”

They stayed like that a beat longer, their slender bodies pressed together in the middle of the shop. No one was paying attention to them, but Louis knew that what was happening was huge. Harry was touching him and allowing Louis to touch him, and it looked like he wasn’t scared or nervous: he hadn’t even flinched when Louis had put a hand on the small of his back.

They walked outside, their bodies still touching on their sides, Louis’ hands still on Harry’s back. “I don’t want to go home now.” Harry pouted, turning slightly towards Louis.

“Let’s go to the park, yeah?” They both wanted to take an advantage of the day, and even though Louis’ head still felt heavy because of the hangover, he couldn’t turn down the chance of spending some hours with Harry. They were ten minutes away from Hyde Park when Louis received an incoming message.

_From: Liam_

_date went rlly well. u up for a beer tonight?_

__

He typed in “im so happy for you mate! sure. 9 at mines?” and pocketed his phone.

“Liam went on a date yesterday night. Apparently, it went really well.” He said, conversational.

“What? With who? Oh my God, I’m so happy for him!” Harry seemed so genuinely excited for the news that he made Louis smile.

“Zayn, some kid in his course. Liam told me he’s, like, proper fit.”

“Wow. Well done, Liam.” Harry laughed an airy laugh and let himself fall on the grass. Louis lied beside him, the back of their hands lightly brushing.

Louis felt so peaceful, simply lying beside the boy he loved, staring up at the cloudless sky.

“We should try to do that, sometimes.” He said, a couple of minutes later.

“What?” Harry whispered back, without moving.

“Go on a date.” Louis was whispering as well, now, because he was scared of breaking something by speaking too loudly.

“You think?” Harry asked, turning to lie on his right side. Louis stayed still.

“If you want to. I think it’d be great.” Louis heart was rabbiting in his chest and his ears had started to pound to the rhythm of his heart beating. He hadn’t thought about it enough, to be honest. He had just followed his instinct, and his heart was begging him to do something to make the longing go away. He was regretting it now, though. With Harry, everything had to be soft, and impulsiveness was rarely good for him.

“Okay.” Harry was staring at him now, completely turned in Louis’ direction. “Okay.” He repeated, taking Louis hand between his own.

Louis let his thumb circle the inside of Harry’s wrist. “This good?” He asked, casting a sideway glance at the other boy, who was lazily smiling and nodded twice with his eyes closed.

“Really good.”

“Harry. I just want you to know… If this doesn’t turn out well, you can still count on me, yeah?” Harry nodded again, squeezing his hand a bit tighter. “And that I will stop immediately doing whatever we're doing if you ever feel uncomfortable around me, okay?”

“Yeah.” A single tear escaped from his eye. “Sorry. Sorry. Thanks.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re so strong, babe, I’m so proud of you.” Louis squeezed back, his heart still pounding in his chest. ,

They stayed still for twenty minutes, the wind moving the branches above their heads and their thoughts loud enough to cover up the noise made by some kids playing football in the distance. Harry stood up first, unsteadily trying to balance on his long legs: he looked like a baby giraffe learning how to walk, so thin and goofy. Louis quickly followed him up, brushing the grass off his jeans.

"I should get going." Harry motioned in the general direction of his apartment. They started walking side to side, their hands brushing but not linked.

"What about the date, then?" Harry asked a couple of blocks from home.

"I don't know. Is there anything you really want to do?" Louis shrugged, nervous.

"Nah. I want it to be a surprise. I just wanted to know when."

"I thought you didn't like surprises." It sounded more like a question than like a statement, but Louis was genuinely confused.

"I usually don't. But I trust you. I know it's gonna be a good one." Harry stepped on the first step of the stairs of his building. "Text me the details. Bye."

And then Harry was gone, and Louis left alone on the sidewalk, so many words left unspoken.

Louis wanted to take advantage of the fact that Harry was feeling more confident and had decided against a movie date at his place. He wanted to do something special, not the usual pizza-and-movie night inside. He had been waiting for that moment for over a year, despite in his daydreams things had always been slightly different. However, he was proud of himself for asking Harry out. He didn’t know where the courage came from: it was probably thanks to Liam and Laura. Most of all, though, he was tired of pretending.

He wanted to be able to properly hold Harry, to kiss him goodnight and to hold his hand in public. He didn’t want to push things, though. He was standing on thin ice: he couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of Harry’s healing process. Louis could wait. Louis could back out completely, if a relationship was not what Harry wanted. But it was a shot, and Louis was determined to make it as good as possible.

The evening flew by, a three hours long Skype call with his sisters followed by a long shower and Liam’s arrival.

“He’s really shy.” Liam began, sipping his beer. “At first I thought I was being a terrible date because he seemed so disinterested, y’know? But then he started joking around. And then we started talking about deep stuff, and we just, um, clicked. I’ve never felt such a connection with anyone, Lou. Not on the first date, anyway.” Liam blushed and smiled wide.

“I’m so happy for you, Li. Did you kiss?” Louis asked, genuinely excited for his best friend.

“Nah. He kissed me on the cheek after we said goodbye, though.”

Louis rolled his eyes, amused. “What are you, twelve?”

“Fuck off, Louis. You’re the one who is still waiting for divine intervention to ask Harry on a date.” Liam joked, finishing his beer with a gulp.

“Not true, actually. I did, today.” Liam’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“All. The. Details. Now.”

Harry wasn’t nervous.

He really wasn’t.

The fact that his heart was rabbiting in his chest had nothing to do with the date, nothing at all.

He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, his coat neatly folded under his arm. Louis had texted him saying that he was ten minutes away, so he had put his shoes on and was now sitting on the chair in the kitchen.

“Someone’s a bit nervous?” Niall padded into the room and opened the fridge. “Harry, ‘s gonna be fine. He’s head over heels for you.”

Harry tried to smile, but it looked more like a sneer.

The doorbell rang twice, making Harry jump in his chair. He stood up, panic starting to flow through his veins. Niall gave him a thumbs up sign and wished him good luck.

He opened the door twenty seconds later. Louis was standing there, his hair covered by a grey beanie and his eyes brighter than ever.

“Oh my god.” Louis whispered, taken aback. “[You are beautiful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdJ6aUB2K4g).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> First of all, thanks to everyone who commented or liked the story. It's so gratifying to know that someone enjoys my work and what I write. Thanks to all the other readers, as well, for being so amazing and supportive. It means a lot!
> 
> The last sentence of this chapter was inspired by a wonderful spoken word poem, "When love arrives", by Sarah Kay and Philip Kaye. Go check it out! They are really talented people, you won't be disappointed.  
> All the love, as always  
> xxx  
> Sil.


	8. Surprises

**VIII**

**Surprises**

"You are beautiful."   
Harry lowered his gaze, a bright red blush colouring his cheeks. He mumbled something that sounded like a "thank you" and let Louis inside to get his keys and wallet.   
"No touching below the waist, young boy, you hear me?" The sound of Niall lecturing Louis like a father made Harry cackle. Louis was trying his best not to smile, looking at him with a straight face.  
"Of course, Mr. Horan." Niall walked them to the front door. He leaned in to whisper "Good luck, Harry." in his ear and shot Louis a playful wink before locking them out.  
"So..." Harry began, clearing his throat. He hadn't been so nervous in a long, long time. This time was different, though. He wasn't nervous because he was scared: it was more like a sense of anticipation was pooling at the bottom of his stomach, something sweet and addicting that reminded him of Louis.   
"So what?"  
"Where are we going?"  
"Uhm. I- I thought about going ice skating. If you want to." Louis sounded nervous as well, Harry noticed. He hadn't thought about this possibility. He was used to a confident, flamboyant and carefree Louis, the one that never stuttered or hesitated, but always knew the right thing to say. Harry felt a bit reassured, and found himself reaching for Louis' hand.   
"Of course. Haven't been skating in a while though." He didn't mean to sound apologetic, but there was something in his voice that made Louis tighten his grip, like he had felt Harry's need to be held a bit closer.   
"Don't worry. I've never even tried... I'll be the one making a fool of himself." Harry sniggered covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

It was quite warm for a December afternoon. The sun was mostly hiding behind the grey clouds, but it peeked out once in a while, almost as if it wanted to check that London was still there.

They walked for ten minutes before they got to the ice rink. The place was already packed with people skating and the air was filled with the sound of laughter and banter. Fairy lights were hung all around the place and the London Eye towered above the rink, making the atmosphere romantic and Christmassy.

Harry's eyes were lit with excitement, his hand clutching Louis' tight. "This place is wonderful! Looks like a fairy tale."

That was exactly what Louis had in mind when he had chosen the place. Somewhere special but not too scary for Harry. Somewhere magical.

They payed for the ice skates (Louis payed for it: it was Harry's date, after all) and put them on sitting on a bench a couple of meters away from the ice rink. Harry stood up easily holding his hand out to help Louis up. It took them a ridiculous amount of time to get to the rink: by the time Harry managed to get on the ice, Louis had turned a weird shade of green.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this." He sighed, his hands tightly gripping the boards surrounding the rink.

“Oh, come on!” Harry giggled, turning around and starting to slide away from Louis.

“Harry! Wait for me!” Louis cried out, still unable to balance himself on the skates. Harry did a complete lap before stopping in front of him in an elegant motion. He was holding his arm out, so Louis hurried to grab it.

Louis was trying his best, he really was. Just, equilibrium wasn’t his best quality and Harry’s hand in his was way too distracting, so he ended up falling four times in the span of twenty minutes. And the fact that it made Harry giggle didn’t have anything to do with the fact that the last two times it looked like he fell on purpose. Not at all.

Soon enough, Harry realised that if he didn’t want to take Louis to the hospital with a broken wrist they had to stop soon. “Hot chocolate?” he suggested, tugging Louis coat towards the exit.

“Yeah, yes. Please get me out of this Hell.” Louis answered relieved. They walked towards the stall holding hands, their breath forming little clouds of condensation.

Harry was happy. It was the first time he had been outside for so long (except for classes) since the break up, but he wasn’t feeling anxious or scared. Of course, he was a bit nervous. But he liked to think that it was thanks to Louis, not because of him. There was a difference. Louis made him nervous in the best way possible.

On the other hand, Louis couldn’t stop wondering whether Harry was alright or not. He looked alright: he was sipping his hot chocolate with a faint smile on his lips, talking about his skiing trip to Italy when he was a child. “... That’s when I learnt how to ice skate. I hadn’t been in a while, so thank you for taking me. Italy was wonderful. I’m so jealous of Laura. I’d like to go back, someday.”

Louis just smiled and continued walking.

The rest of the date flew by, their giggles melting together and their hands always finding each other while walking. Louis’ heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour when they arrived in front of Harry’s apartment. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, so he sat on the step that led to Harry’s front door. The other boy sat down as well, close enough for their arms to brush lightly against each other. Louis felt the urge to let him know about his feelings, but he was scared of making things worse for Harry. He knew that they were both walking on thin ice, but he somehow felt like nothing could be worse than not saying anything. He felt like he could burst because of all the emotions he was feeling at once.

“Harry.” He took a deep breath. “So, I guess you figured by now, but I wanted to tell you anyway. I… I started having feelings for you. I think you’re great and that you deserve to be loved. And I know that it’s probably the worst timing ever, but I’ve liked you since you were with Nick and… I just wanted you to know.” He was shaking now, his eyes trained on a crack on the sidewalk and his vision blurry.

Harry didn’t say anything for what felt like an hour. When he spoke, his voice was shaking and faltering. “Lou.” Louis didn’t look up. “I’m sorry.” Louis could already feel his mind go numb, trying to avoid the pain of being rejected. “I like you, too.” _Wait, what?_ Louis wanted to scream. He wanted to jump and kiss Harry until they were both out of air - but of course he couldn’t. Harry was always so vulnerable and he couldn’t take advantage of that. “I’ve liked you for a long time, I think? Yeah. But… I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet. I’ve got so many issues that I need to solve and Nick is probably still after me. I’m sorry, Louis… It will take time. And I can’t guarantee that we’ll work out.”

Louis found himself smiling, and finally gathered enough courage to look up. “I’m happy. That’s enough, we’re not in a rush. We could try to hang out just like we did today. I’m not going to pressure you into a relationship you’re not ready for, Harry.” The younger boy seemed a bit reassured by that, and let out a content sigh.

“Okay. That could work.” He thought of Niall’s words, on the evening of his first day of class. _“Maybe you could just, like, hang out for a while”._ Yeah, he could do that. That first date, after all, had gone wonderfully. With Louis, he didn’t feel the need of running away or avoid physical contact. Touching Louis - and Louis touching him - was something reassuring, not scary; it made him feel warm and protected. He had so much to figure out, though. He still had troubles getting out of bed, he still felt dirty after an hour long shower, he still cried at least once a day: he was far from being okay. But he was getting better. He knew that much, tough: he couldn’t let Louis be the reason of his improvements. He had to do it on his own, to prove himself that he was strong enough to stand on his own. “Thank you for the date, Lou.” He stood up, placed a kiss on Louis’ cheek and rushed inside. “Let’s do it again soon, mh?”

So they did.

They went to the cinema, to the museum, to get coffee together.

Louis couldn’t be happier, Harry was slowly starting to let himself go. By the end of the visit to the museum, they were properly holding hands. Harry had this weird habit of squeezing Louis’ hand every now and then, almost as if he wanted to check that Louis was still there by his side. Louis never left him and he showered him in attentions and praises, always trying to be as soft and gentle as possible.

Two weeks passed, and Louis got home for the weekend. His sisters were waiting for him on the driveway when his taxi pulled over, and they didn’t let go of him until the following day, when Louis had to force himself out of their arms to get the train. They had built a tent a slept together in the living room, their five bodies cramped together to fit on the two mattresses they had dragged downstairs. Louis had had a long chat with his aunt to catch up with how the girls were doing: apparently, they had started to get better and they were helping each other out when one of them felt down. Louis was proud and relieved: he wanted the best for them, and knowing that they were watching out for each other made his heart a bit lighter.

He got home late on Sunday evening. He had stopped on his way home from the station to get a sandwich and couldn’t wait to take a shower and go to bed. When he got to his front door, though, something felt different. He opened the door slowly, pulling his phone out in case he needed to call for help. The lights were on, but he immediately spotted a pair of black Converse under the radiator, so he let out an airy laugh and pocketed his phone.

“Harry! You scared me!” He cried out, dropping his backpack to the floor and toeing off his Vans before making his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry Lou! I was gon- shit- SURPRISE!” and with that he turned around, lifting up a plate of spaghetti. “I figured that you’d be hungry.” Louis cackled at that, taking the plate from his hands and putting it on the kitchen counter. He stood on his tiptoes and put his arms around Harry’s shoulders, hugging him tight.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He meant it. His rested his forehead against Harry’s.

“I know, Lou. I’ve missed you too.” Hesitantly, Harry leaned forward. Their noses were now touching, their mouths just a breath apart.

Louis closed his eyes, staying still.

Ten seconds later, Harry’s soft lips were on his own.

Louis stood perfectly still, his lips still touching Harry's, and refused to even breath, too scared of ruining the moment. Harry's hands found their way to his hips and he placed them there softly, parting their lips. Harry took a deep breath and kissed him again, a bit more firmly than before: Louis kissed him back, standing in equilibrium on his tiptoes, gently pushing Harry down to even their size difference. Harry pulled away slowly, almost reluctantly, opening his eyes and looking down at Louis' blue ones. He found them brighter than ever, the little crinkles by their sides showing in full  display. He let go of Louis' hips and Louis loosened his grip on Harry's arms as well, taking a step back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" Louis laughed easily, but his expression changed when he saw the younger boy hide his face behind his hands. "Hey, love, what's wrong?"

"I- he- I... Sorry." He was crying now, large tears rolling down his cheeks and falling on the floor. Louis wanted to hug him and hold him close, but he knew that it would have made things worse, so he just ran to his bedroom to grab a blanket.

"Okay, love. It's okay. Here, take this." He helped Harry with the blanket and took the plate from the counter, making his way to the living room. Harry was already sitting on the couch by then, and he went to sit on the floor but the younger boy moved a little to make room for him. Harry was sitting with his knees to his chest, and Louis knew that he had to lighten the mood to make him feel comfortable again.

"This is delicious." Louis moaned around a forkful of spaghetti. "Have some." Harry nodded and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue just a little. Just before getting to his mouth, though, Louis sneezed and his hands jerked in the air, all the spaghetti falling from the work in Harry's lap. They both stared at each other for a beat before collapsing into a fit of laughter that forced Louis to move the plate to the floor to hold his belly. When they managed to calm down, they cleaned the pasta off the blanket and Harry's sweatpants and went back to the couch, snuggling closer than before.

Louis was about to drift to sleep (he had had a long day, and sleeping on the floor wasn't that comfortable) when Harry spoke again. "I'm sorry for... Before. It's just... Sometimes I still feel him, and I get scared. I know it’s you. I trust you. But…my head sometimes doesn’t want to listen, y’know?”

“Harry, it’s fine. I just want you to feel good when you’re around me, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry if we don’t kiss again tonight.”

“It’s alright.” Harry nuzzled a bit closer, his face hidden by Louis’ shoulder. Louis brushed a curl from his forehead. “How did you get in?”

“Laura. I asked Niall and Niall asked her. She’s a nice girl.” Louis had given her his keys Friday night, asking her to keep an eye on his apartment. That definitely did not include finding Harry Styles making pasta upon his return, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Yeah.” Louis yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “‘M really tired. Stay the night?”

“Uhm… I don’t know. I guess it’s too late to call Liam…”

“Yeah, and I don’t want you to walk all the way there, it’s freezing outside. I’ll take the couch, you can sleep in the bed.” Louis made to stand up, cracking his fingers above his head. Harry’s hand grabbed the hem of his t-shirt before he could walk away.

“Can we cuddle a bit first?” It sounded like a plea, so Louis kissed Harry’s hair before straightening up again.

“I’ll grab the pillow. Be right back.” Louis closed the bedroom door behind him. He needed a moment to himself. They had kissed. Just thinking about it made Louis blush and shiver: it was something he had wanted for at least the last ten months, and it felt surreal to finally have done it. On the other hand, Harry wasn’t feeling as ecstatic as Louis was. Louis was starting to understand how badly Nick had fucked him up, and he seriously hated the guy. He knew Harry didn’t want his friends to confront him - he had begged them until they had promised - but he couldn’t stand seeing him like that. It made his heart bleed.

He went back to the living room carrying two pillows and his duvet. Harry had already curled up in a ball on the sofa, and Louis covered him with the duvet before sliding between the younger boy and the back of the sofa.  

“Thank you for being so sweet to me.” Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Haz, that’s the way it should be when you’re with someone.” Louis put an arm around Harry’s waist and rested his forehead against his broad back.

“Is it?” A sad laughed escaped his lips. “I’ve been so stupid. I’ve wasted so much time being with him.”

“You didn’t waste time, love. You were in love with him, and of course it took you some time to figure out that you weren’t anymore. It was just another experience.”

“The point is… I hadn’t felt happy with him for a long time, before I broke up with him in September. I wish I had left him sooner.” Louis could feel the way Harry’s body had tensed under his arm, so he tried to hug him a bit tighter.

“It’s over now, though.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, just forcing himself to breath evenly. “It’s not. He’s part of me. He’ll never let me go.” Louis heard that distantly, just a moment before falling asleep. He tried to say something back, but his eyes closed and he drifted to sleep.

When Louis woke up, the morning after, it was to an empty apartment. Harry had left without a trace and Louis had slept in (his phone was laying under the sofa and the alarm hadn’t gone off because it was out of battery). He got dressed quickly, pulled on a beanie to hide his greasy hair and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. The bus got to his stop five minutes later and he sat in the front. If he ran to the campus, he could make it in time for third period, biochemistry.

He got to class just in time, but he didn’t understand a thing anyway. He was replaying the night before again and again, trying to get over the fact that Harry had kissed him and he had fallen asleep in his arms. Louis didn’t know what this was going. Their relationship was nothing like the two he had had before. His first girlfriend was a girl named Helena, when he was fifteen. They had been together for no longer than a couple of days: he took Louis that long to figure out that he really didn’t like girls. After her, just Dave. They had met in a pub, gone on a couple of dates and been together (on and off) for almost six months. Louis had never liked him that much, but the sex was good and it was nice to have someone to laugh with. Dave had moved to Paris in June, though, and he hadn’t asked Louis to go with him. He wouldn’t have gone anyway. They had had goodbye sex and that was it.

Harry, though… He was a completely different  story.

Louis _loved_ Harry.

He had never felt that way about anyone: it was kind of scary, to be so desperately close to that boy.

He loved the way Harry’s dimples popped out when he made him laugh. He loved the way Harry was always so soft spoken, and scrunched his nose at Louis when he swore. He loved when Harry asked him about his day and managed to make him smile even if he was feeling like crap. He just wanted to make him feel better, to hold him until Harry managed to pick up all the pieces. He didn’t know the truth about Nick, that was for sure, but he was willing to fix everything that bastard had fucked up, because Harry didn’t deserve it.

The class came to an end, and the page of his notepad was completely blank. He asked to a girl he knew if she could send him a picture of her notes.

When he got home, at 3:30 pm, the first thing he did was turning on his phone, still plugged in next to his bed. He wanted to text Harry: he missed him already.

_From: Harry [9:09am]_

_sorry Lou I had to leave early for class. left you a sandwich in the fridge. xxx_

__

_From: Harry [11:34am]_

_hope you’re not mad for leaving without saying goodbye xxx_

__

_From: Harry [2:58pm]_

_guess you are. I’m really sorry Lou, won’t happen again_

__

Louis cursed at himself under his breath before calling Harry. The phone ringed for twenty seconds before he hung up. Why would Louis be mad at him for leaving early in the morning? It wasn’t like Louis couldn’t handle waking up alone. Of course, he would have liked kissing him “good morning” better, but he knew that he had to take whatever Harry was willing to give without questioning.

_To: Harry [3:41pm]_

_am not!!! my phone was dead sorry. want to come over tonight too? Laura and Liam will be there too xxx_

__

_From: Harry [3:47pm]_

_ok good._

__

_From: Harry [3:47pm]_

_ps: you snore!_

__

Louis smiled at his phone.

They were good again, weren’t they?

 


	9. Breakdowns

**XIX**

**Breakdowns**

 

 

Harry bit his lips, buttoning his shirt all the way up. He looked at himself in the mirror - just a quick glance - and went over to say goodbye to Niall. He found him asleep on the couch, a movie still playing on the laptop resting on his chest. Niall had been working double shift for a couple of weeks: he wanted to pay for an holiday for him and Lisa for Christmas and he needed the money. That also reminded Harry that he still had to come up with something for both Louis’ birthday and Christmas. He didn’t have time for that now, though, since Liam had texted him that he was waiting for him downstairs and that they were going to be late.

Tonight was the night: Liam was going to introduce Zayn to him and Louis. They were so excited that he and Louis had high fived when Liam asked them. Niall had already bumped into the new couple the previous week in a pub. He had reported Louis that “ _Zayn’s so good-looking that I almost thought I was gay for a sec._ ”. Liam hadn’t lied, after all, nor love had blinded him.

He got in the car, carding through his hair and making some raindrops fall into his lap.

“Hey mate.” He greeted Liam, eyeing him as he started the engine and pulled off the parking lot he had found. “What’s up?”

“Bit nervous.” Harry noticed he was biting his nails, one of his hand still tight on the steering wheel. Harry giggled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. In a weird way, it felt good not to be the nervous one for once.

“It’s gonna be fine!” Liam nodded keeping his eyes on the road, but he didn’t look convinced. “Is he gonna drive there?”

“Yeah, he didn’t want to make me drive all the way to his house…” The lampposts light was enough to make out a faint blush on his cheeks.

“What a sweetheart!” Harry teased, a cheeky grin splitting his face in two.

“Shut it, you!” Liam was definitely blushing now, trying to hide away from Harry with his left hand. He pulled over in front of Louis’ building, gesturing towards the front door. “And I don’t want him to see my car. Not yet. Now go and ring your boyfriend, you tease!”

Harry struggled out of the seat belt and run to Louis’ front door. He found the older boy staring at him through the glass door, his nose pressed to the glass and his smile as wide as ever. Harry felt a wave of courage, so he leaned forward and kissed the glass just above Louis’ lips. He felt a bit childish, but apparently Louis loved it: when he opened the door, a couple of seconds later, he swung his arms around him and lifted him up from the ground.

“Wow, Harry. You look stunning tonight.” Harry looked down at that, his cheeks flushing. They made their way to Liam who faked gagging noise when they got in the car. Harry couldn’t help but notice how Louis’ black jeans skimmed his ass, or the way his hair was styled up in a quiff that Harry would love to card through. He wished he had kissed him properly before they both got in the car.

They got to the restaurant fifteen minutes later, struggling a bit to find an empty parking spot and running under the pouring rain to find a shelter.

“He’s always late. I can wait for him here, and you guys can get a table? So you don’t get wet.” Liam’s voice was a bit too high and he was clearly nervous now, cracking his fingers and scanning the street with a worried look.

“Hey!” Someone called, from the other side of the street. “I’m just fashionably late! And that only happened once.”

Liam was right. Niall was right, as well. They were _so_ right.

Zayn was running across the street now, his black coat pushed open by the wind and his hair styled in a perfectly messy quiff. As he got closer, Harry got to notice his chiseled cheekbones and the way his eyelashes seemed to go on forever.

Liam took a step in Zayn’s direction, his smile warmer than ever. Zayn pecked him on the lips before pulling out of his embrace and walking over to the boys, who were looking at them completely starstruck.

Louis put an hand on the small of Harry’s back, pushing him a little forward. “You must be Zayn.” He smiled. “I’m Louis. Very nice to meet you.” They shook hands, their eyes locking for a couple of seconds: chocolate brown meeting ice blue.

“Very nice to meet you, mate. Harry, I guess?” His eyes darted between the two before focusing completely on him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He breathed out, giggling. He could feel his cheeks burning as they shook hands.

Louis joked about something, and the attention was off from him. Liam had put his hand on Zayn’s hip, mirroring their position, and Harry relaxed in Louis’ embrace: it made him feel safe, even if he had a night of socialisation to deal with in front of him.

Their noses were starting to freeze when Liam dragged them inside, the waiter leading their way to a table next to the fishtank that took up the whole wall. Laura had suggested the place, and Harry could definitely see why she had sounded so enthusiastic about it. The atmosphere was cozy, but without losing the fancy vibe that Liam had asked for. Was he still trying to impress Zayn? Harry wouldn’t say so, since Liam didn’t even want him so see his BMW. He just wanted to spend a good night in a nice place.

“So, Zayn,  are you still in uni?” Louis asked, picking up the yellow napkin and folding it into his lap.

“Yeah, that’s how we met.” Zayn’s eyes went to meet Liam’s. “I’m really bad at Sociology, so he lent me his notes… and asked me out for a beer. What do you guys study?”

“Medicine, fourth year.” Louis flicked his hands in Harry’s direction, smiling softly at him, as to divert the attention from himself.

“I’m studying English Lit.” Even though Zayn had proven to be a really nice guy - a bit shy, if anything - he was still feeling a hint of nervousness at the pit of his stomach. How could he not be nervous? Zayn was this beautiful, charming, mysterious boy, all sharp cheekbones and perfect complexion… He couldn’t even compare. He wasn’t jealous of him, because he knew that he was completely head over heels for Liam, and he trusted Louis completely. He just felt a bit intimidated by this flawless stranger who was sitting across from him, laughing quietly at one of Louis’ jokes.

The food was delicious: he had to watch out, because Louis had tried to steal food from his plate for the whole night, trying to distract him by putting his hand on his thigh under the table. They ended up choosing four different desserts so they could all have a taste of the other’s. Liam was basically crying at how good his crème brulée was and Harry could hear Louis groan in satisfaction at his tiramisù. Zayn caught his gaze and brought his fork to his temple, waving it in small circles and mouthing “They’re crazy.”, his eyes trained on the other two boys. Harry cackled at that, shrugging and answering "What can we do" before rolling his eyes at them.

Louis and Liam had always been outgoing and easy to hang out with. They never ran out of things to say, of stories to share or of questions to ask. Harry was sort of relieved: he had never been a good storyteller and he hated to be the one who had to come up with the topic of conversation. But thanks to them, the conversation flowed easily and the night flew by. Before he realised, Liam was checking the time on his phone with a frown. “We should get going.” They all mumbled in disagreement, even though they knew he was right. It was the week before Christmas, and everyone was so busy with finals and last minute revisions that finding the right evening had been a miracle.

Liam paid for everyone, which for some reasons really seemed to put Zayn off. Harry could understand why Liam didn’t want him to know about his car, then.

He and Louis said goodbye to Zayn with a hug and a promise to meet again soon, maybe with Niall and Lisa as well. They made their way to Liam’s car, leaving him and Zayn a bit of privacy.

“So…” Louis drawled, covering his yawn with his hand. “He seems like a nice lad.”

“He does.” Harry agreed, taking a step closer to Louis. “Do you think you can - uhm. Actually. Can I kiss you?”

Louis laughed, circling his arms around Harry’s middle. “Of course you can.”

With that, their lips met.

Harry smiled when they pulled away, his cheeks flushing. The kiss had been a gentle one, no tongue or teasing: just a gentle and soft gesture that had warmed Harry up just enough to make it through the night by himself.

Liam jogged up to the car, his lips a dark shade of pink. Louis took the front seat and busied himself with the radio before connecting his iPhone via Bluetooth. As one of his favourite songs started playing, he turned to Liam. "So, what did your loverboy say about us?"

"He likes you. He said that he wants to hang out with you very soon." Liam was grinning to the road, his head slightly bent to the side. “Thanks for being so nice to him, guys. Means a lot.”

Louis and Liam went on with their small talk as Harry relaxed back into the seat and zoned out, thinking about the kiss. Nick barely kissed him anymore, in the last months of their relationship. Actually, untrue. He did kiss him, but never for the sake of it - it had always been to try and rile him up and push him to his knees. Those didn’t count as kisses, he thought.

Liam stopped the car in front of his building, turning his head to the back seat to hug him goodbye. “I’m giving you two minutes.” He said to Louis “Then I’ll start the car and never look back.” Louis laughed and hopped off the car, opening Harry’s door.

They walked together to the front door, their bodies leaning against each other against the light drizzle.

“That was a good kiss.” Harry said, softly buring his head in Louis’ hair.

“Yeah. I’m an expert at second first kisses.” Louis joked, his arm swinging around Harry’s waist. “Had fun?”

“Yeah. It was good. It feels good to… y’know. Go out again. Have friends. Make new ones.”

“Of course it does.” Louis kissed him on the cheek, his breath tickling him.

They stayed like that, hugging tightly under the light rain, until Liam honked twice to call Louis back to the car. They kissed again, and when Louis left, Harry could still feel his warmth seeping through his body.

*

Louis lifted another stack of clothes and dropped them in an open box, before going to his bedroom and closing the wardrobe, nothing left in it apart from an old ratty t-shirt.

His apartment was completely empty now, except for the white sofa and the three boxes abandoned in the living room.

That was it.

It was his last night there before moving in with Liam. He hadn’t found anywhere else to go - honestly, with his mom and all, he hadn’t been looking - and Liam had been more than happy of offering him to share his house, which was too big for a single person anyway.

Packing away all of his stuff had drained him. Who knew he owned so many things? It had taken him more time than he had expected - almost twice as much -, and he  had had to give up and accept Niall’s offer to help him, or he wouldn’t have made it in time.

He jumped on the bed, snuggling under the duvet so that only his eyes pecked out. He quickly composed a goodnight text to Harry and turned the lights off.

When his alarm went off, the following morning, he was feeling like crap. Not only he didn’t want to leave, but he had the worst headache ever, probably because of all the stress the moving had caused.

Liam drove to his house at nine. They put the last three boxes in the trunk and decided to go for breakfast, even though Louis wasn’t feeling really hungry. He was halfway through his croissant when he got a text from Laura.

_From: Laura [10:03am]_

_i already miss my favourite neighbour_

__

He smiled sadly, handing the phone to Liam so he could read the text as well.

“If you hadn’t found Zayn, I’d had tried to set you two up.” Louis admitted earnestly, a playful look in his expression.

Liam laughed, shaking his head vigorously. “She’s taken, man. And so am I.”

“What? You two made it official?” Louis exclaimed.

“Not yet. I want to ask him soon though.” Liam blushed, and changed the subject.

As they got in the car, Louis pulled out his phone.

_To: Laura [10:21am]_

_I know, same! xx_

__

_From: Laura [10:23am]_

_how could someone not miss him, though? tyler is such a sweet guy_

__

_To: Laura [10:23am]_

_i can’t believe it. ur the worse_

__

_From: Laura [10:24am]_

_at least I can spell_

_love you LouLou xxx_

They arrived back at Liam’s place and played video games until lunchtime. Liam had to head out to eat with one of his friends from class and Louis munched on a sandwich and some crisps. When he was done, he went to his room. He threw himself on the bed, face first, letting go a deep sigh. It had been a long day so far. His new room was scattered with boxes, suitcases, bags filled with books. He didn’t feel like unpacking yet. It felt too much like leaving his flat behind: he somehow felt the guilt of a traitor creeping in his bones. Of course, Liam’s apartment was twice as big and he had his own ensuite - with a fucking bath tub in it, for God’s sake - but nothing could ever compare to the feeling of independence and the adrenaline rush that had filled his chest that first night at his old place.

His breath were evening out and he had given up to an afternoon nap when he got a text. He decided to ignore it, curling a bit tighter on the bed. He was so close to falling asleep again when his phone went off again. He groaned as he lifted himself up pushing on his elbows and reached for his phone on the bedside table.

_From: Niall [2:26pm]_

_hey mate, is harry alright? hasnt come out of his room yet_

__

_From: Niall [2:58pm]_

_sorry to bug u but i can hear him crying… he doesnt even let me in. can u come over?_

Louis chest tightened as he read the texts, mentally going over Harry’s he had received early that morning: “ _good morning Lou! Hope moving the last boxes doesn’t take you too long. xxx_ ”. He had answered with a short text, thanking him and wishing him a good day. They hadn’t planned to meet each other because Harry was supposed to be studying the stuff he had missed on the first week of uni and Louis had just assumed the moving issue would have taken him much longer.

He stumbled on his feet, put on a thicker sweatshirt and grabbed the key from the kitchen table. He wrote Liam a short note and stormed out of the apartment, the door softly closing behind him.

“Thank God you’re here” Niall greeted him at the door. “I don’t know what to do anymore and I have to go to the dentist in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Ni. I’ll handle it now.” Truth was, he had no idea of how to handle it. Harry had had a couple of other bad days before, but nothing as serious as that day. He had just been more quiet than usual and not eaten dinner, and that was it.

Louis quietly padded over to Harry’s door. He knocked softly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Harry, love, it’s me.” Nothing. He knocked again. “Harry, let me in please?” He hated sounding so desperate, but he wanted to make sure that Harry was okay and he would have begged if he had to. “Harry, please. Just tell me if you’re okay, baby.”

“I am.” Harry’s voice was low and raspy, almost as if he had been crying. Louis felt the urge of rush to his side and hold him. “You c-can go n-now.”

“Can I come him?” He asked tentatively, his tone hopeful. Again, no answer. He sighed deeply and sat cross legged on the floor, his back resting on Harry’s door. “Alright. But I’m not leaving.”

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, Niall appeared from the living room. “Gotta head out. Text me if you need anything, yeah?” Louis nodded and waved him goodbye.

After a while, he started to get antsy. He figured that maybe if he talked, Harry would have gotten his mind off whatever was hurting him. So he told the closed door about his day, Laura’s texts, his plan of going to the movie with him on Sunday. He was running out of things to say, when an idea struck him and made him smile. He cleared his throat and started humming “Na na na na, na na na na, yeah… You are the music in me. You know the words once upon a time…”. By the end of the song his voice had gotten louder and more cheerful. It sounded like such a good idea in his head: he had imagined Harry opening the door and joining him for an impromptu duet. That didn’t happen. The door remained closed, not even a whisper leaving Harry’s mouth. Louis closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the door.

Louis didn’t know how long he had been sitting there after that, but his back was starting to hurt and he really needed to use the toilet. He pushed himself up and spoke to the closed door. “I’m just going to use the loo. It’s gonna take a minute.”

He hadn’t feel that useless in a long time. He knew something was off, maybe even wrong  with Harry. He wasn’t stupid: all those flinches, all the lights flicks and the scratching had not gone unnoticed. He knew something really bad must have happened with Nick, because Harry would never completely relax in his touch or get rid of that hint of fear - the one of a caged animal - from his eyes. It hurt. It hurt to know that he still didn’t trust Louis enough to let him in. Louis knew he had to be patient and not force him to do anything, not even talk.

He splashed some cold water on his face and walked back to Harry’s room.

As he got closer, he noticed that the door wasn’t locked anymore. Harry had opened it, even if just a crack, a silent invitation for Louis to get in. He knocked anyway, letting himself in. The room was completely dark: the curtains were closed and the lights off. Louis could only make out the outline of Harry’s body in the bed thanks to the light pouring in from the hallway.

Louis didn’t know if he was allowed to touch Harry, so he just sat on the floor next to the bed, uncomfortably balancing himself between a pile of clothes and Harry’s textbooks sprawled on the floor.

“Babe.” He whispered after a while, when it was clear that Harry wasn’t going to speak. “What’s wrong, love?”

Harry shuffled a bit under the covers, the mop of his brown curls shifting on the pillow. An hand pecked out before being buried again under the duvet. Louis stood up again and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping what felt like a comfortable distance between himself and Harry. To be honest, he didn’t want any distance at all between them.

“Can I touch you, babe?” he asked tentatively. He had expected another stretch of silence as an answer, but his question was met with a sharp intake of breath and a whisper.

“N- no. I’m d-dirty. So-sorry.” Harry had definitely been crying, his voice cracked and shaky.

“Dirty?” Louis didn’t understand. What did he mean? “What do you mean, dirty?” Harry had showered the night before, just while Louis had finished his essay about heart diseases in smokers.

Louis felt Harry stiffen. A few beats passed before he managed to speak again. “I had a d-dream. It was a good one, but then... He c-came i-n, he w-was suddenly there t-too and…” His breath got heavy again, and a loud sob escaped his lips. “S-sorry.”

Louis hated it. He hated being able to tell who _he_ was, even without looking into Harry’s eyes. He hated that a dream was enough to kick Harry’s off from his balance, now that he was starting to get better. He hated him, who had hurt his boy so deeply that he couldn’t even hold him to make him feel better.

“I don’t have to apologize, love. And he’s not here. You’ll never have to see him again if you don’t want to…” Harry was shaking now, hiding a little more under the duvet.

“P-please don’t be mad. It won’t - won’t happen again. Just p-please don’t be mad.”

“Harry, babe. I’m not mad.” He tried to scoot closer, but Harry retreated back to the edge of the bed, so Louis stopped moving. Louis felt his eyes pool with tears, both because of Harry’s feeling and the dull pain of rejection. “And I don’t think you’re dirty, either. I just want to hold you. Can I?” Harry didn’t say anything, so Louis stayed still.

When Niall came home, after dinner, he found Louis asleep sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed, and Harry sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed, staring at Louis’ hand clutching the duvet.

****  
  



	10. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm back! Ta-daaan! I know, I know. It's been ages (three months, god) since I last posted, but life happened a bit more than usual. Here I am, though. I'll be writing as much as possible during the holidays and try to post chapter XI as soon as I finish it. I've actually written quite a bit of snippets of Harry and Lou's relationship 5 years after the ending of the fic, but I need to finish the fic itself before posting them, haha. Let me know if you think I should post them as a coda or as oneshots part of a series.  
> Anyway, enough with my rambling. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter. It was emotionally draining to write, but some things need to be written.  
> Thank you for your endless support and patience.  
> Lots of all,  
> xxx  
> Sil.

**X**

**Christmas**

“What the fuck, Harry.” Niall breathed out, still lingering by the open door. Harry’s eyes snapped up, meeting Niall’s gaze with ill-concealed panic. Louis stirred a bit before waking up completely.

“Harry?” he mumbled, his voice still groggy from sleep. He turned around to see what Harry was staring at, and greeted Niall with a tired smile. “Hey, Ni. Your teeth alright?” Everyone could tell he was trying to sound cheerful while fighting back the tears.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m… I’m going to make soup. You staying for dinner?”

Louis didn’t say anything, waiting for Harry to answer for him as he usually would. Harry stayed silent, though, so Louis had to figure out what to tell by himself. “Uhm. I don’t know yet.”

“Well, okay. I’ll just make a bit more than usual, so there’ll be enough for three if you, um, decide to stay.” With that, Niall was gone, door closing behind his back.

Louis didn’t dare to move. He was sitting still, his hands pressed together in his laps, his lips in a tight line.

“Please.” Harry stuttered after what felt like hours. “Please don’t go.”

Louis nodded, looking up to him, pain written all over his face. Harry stretched his arms out in his direction making grabby hands and hesitantly lifted a corner of his mouth. His dimples stayed hidden, but Louis didn’t care. In a beat he was up to his feet, gently lowering himself on the bed, his arms enveloping Harry’s shoulders with a sigh of relief.

He didn’t relax into the touch, but just feeling his warmth was making him feel better, making all the bad thoughts that had clouded up his mind dissipate just a bit.

“So, what’s wrong?” he put some distance between the two of them, lifting one hand to stroke back a wild curl from Harry’s eyes.

“Nothing, Lou. Sorry about… before.” Harry couldn’t meet his eyes, but leaned a bit into his touch.

“Harry, once again, there’s no need to apologize. But you do realize that if you don’t tell me what’s going on I can’t be much of an help, right?” Louis kept his tone soft and soothing, and got a bit closer.

“It’s just…” a loud sob “It’s just a mess.”

No one said anything else until Niall called them for dinner, and they stood up untangling their legs from under the duvet, where Louis had slid after a while. Harry was wearing his pajamas bottoms and a oversized sweatshirt, the fabric hanging loose from his lean body. He just seemed so fragile and breakable, with his porcelain skin and big eyes, that Louis instinctively reached out for him and pressed another kiss on his cheek. Harry smiled at that, but didn’t return the kiss.

The dinner went smoothly. After soup, Niall excused himself to bed - that job was draining him - leaving them alone in the silent kitchen.

Harry cleared his throat a couple of times before speaking. “I’m not used to this, Lou.”

“What?” Louis asked after the silence had stretched for a bit too long.

“People caring about me just for the sake of it. I was so used to… I mean, why would they do it? Why do you take care of me if I can’t even kiss you properly?” His voice was soaked in confusion and despair.

“Fuck, Harry… We care about you because we love you, right? And of course we don’t want anything in return. That’s not how love works, you know?”

The fact was, Harry didn’t know anymore. There had been a time when he knew it: when Nick’s present were just excuses to see his smile and his dimples, when a compliment had no other goal than making him blush. Those times felt so distant, though. He could only recall flowers in exchange for blowjobs and chocolates in exchange for forgiveness, and those memories were still hard to swallow.

Harry nodded, though, because he didn’t feel like discussing the topic any further. He told Louis that he needed to get a shower and excused himself to the bathroom.

_Has Nick ever loved me?_

__

One hour and forty-seven minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open. Louis waited for Harry to come out, his hand tracing lazy circles on the armrest of the sofa. He had gotten so, so bored that he had almost fallen asleep twice.

“Lou?” Harry asked from inside the bathroom, tentatively.

“Yes, babe?” Louis stood up, worried.

“Can you come here and check something for me?”

Louis knocked anyway on the bathroom door, even though he knew he had been invited in. It was a weird situation even for them, who used to be as thick as thieves and not awkward around each other at all. Now, though, Louis was scared of making the wrong choice, of touching the wrong spots, of pushing it a bit too further. So he stepped carefully, watching out for the weak points and trying to walk around them.

Harry was sitting on the toilet counter, his back to the mirror, his gaze low and sad.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked worried, taking a step closer to him.

“I can’t take him off” Harry started scratching his arms, digging deeper into the already red marks. “Tell me you can’t see him.”

“See who, Harry?” he grabbed the other boy’s hands and held them away from his body.

“ _Him_.”

“There’s nothing here.” Louis whispered, pressing a kiss on Harry’s left wrist. “Nothing here.” He went on, dropping another kiss a bit higher. “Nothing here.” He went all the way up to the elbow, before doing the same with the other arm. When he was done, he looked up at Harry, who was staring at him with his green eyes damp and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Nothing here.” Louis repeated softly, kissing him on the lips.

Harry could feel Louis’ hot breaths on his shoulder, the rhythm steady and regular, and the way his hands were tracing complicated patterns on the inside of his forearm. His panic attack had ended a couple of hours ago, but Louis still hadn’t let go of him. It was so nice, to have him plastered to his side like that. It was a continuous reminder of the fact that he was _clean_ and that there was _nothing_ , _no one_ crawling under his skin. It may have felt like, but there wasn’t.

“Okay darling, I’m gonna ask you a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, right?” Harry shivered, because he knew it was going to happen. Louis had found out about how disgusting and worthless he was and now he was gonna leave him. It was only fair, from Louis point of view: that’s what you do with faulty toys, right? You either throw them away or give them back. “Uhm, so. Was Nick always, like, respectful of your body?”

And _shitshitshitshit_. This was not what Harry was expecting, this was nowhere close to it. He felt the sudden urge to throw up and scratch away the feeling of filth under his skin, but Louis was still draped around his chest, holding both of his arms down and radiating off some of his warmth. He stayed silent for what felt like ages, before suddenly speaking up. “Most of the time, yeah.”

The air in the room instantaneously became thicker.“Oh, Harry.” Louis hugged him, which was the exact opposite of what Harry had expected. “Come here.”

The world was silent, perfectly still in his uselessness, as he moved a tad closer.

“I’m sorry.” He really was: he felt guilt clenching his chest and tears pooling in his eyes.

“Please, Harry. Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But you have to… deal with this mess. And it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either. I’m here for a reason, right? And I’m not going anywhere.”

“What’s the reason, Louis? I can’t even... I couldn’t even walk away from him. I didn’t even realise how toxic that relationship had become. I’m a failure.”

“You’re not. And we’re in this together, Harry.”

“I don’t get why someone would choose to be with me when I’m this fucked up.”

“Because… because I love you, Harry.”

The rest of the night was spent whispering sweet nothings and broken sentences that always sounded like apologies, even though they were confessions of bruises and wounds and old scars.

Harry didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, but Louis didn’t even notice. He was too caught up in showering him with attention and love. He was too busy drying his tears before they wet the pillow, too busy kissing Harry every time he leaned forward with his eyes closed.

The night sky’s darkness was already fading away when they both fell asleep.

*

The following days were filled with tears, and cuddles, and long showers that left Harry drained and stressed. He had asked Louis to stay the night for a couple of days in a row, but eventually he had had to move back to Liam’s and going back to sleeping alone had left Harry nervous and scrappy for a few days.

Christmas break was getting closer and closer, and even though Louis was excited at the thought of getting to spend some quality time with his sisters he was also scared as hell. It was going to be their first Christmas without their mum, and it made him teary just to think about it.

Having to leave Harry wasn’t going to be easy either. He wasn’t going home - his mom and sister were going to the States to visit some relatives - but he was going to Liam’s until January, when Niall would have came back from Ireland. It wasn’t like Louis was leaving him alone, but it felt like a betrayal anyway. Some time apart would have done them good, he knew that. It just felt like he would have needed Harry by his side to survive Christmas.

That’s why his birthday party had been particularly bittersweet.

Liam had invited some of Louis’ course mates for a few beers in their favourite pub, but the fact that Harry had looked on the verge of a breakdown for the whole time they’d been there had stopped Louis from getting completely pissed. And there was the thought of his suitcases already packed on his bed and the train ticket for 8:54 the following morning that made him feel uncomfortable and all itchy. The party took a turn for the better when Niall finally arrived, and by the time they left the pub everyone was swearing it had been the best night they’d ever had, _Thank you so much Louisss_.

Louis hit the lights and the hallway came to light, his flat particularly silent in the eerie light of half past two in the morning.

“Come on in, H.” Louis whispered, pulling Harry by the sleeve. “You need to rest.”

“You’re the one who has to wake up early tomorrow morning.”

“Shush, shush.” He kissed Harry on the cheek before ushering him to the bedroom door. “Have a goodnight, babe.”

“What?” Confusion was written all over Harry’s face, his right hand losing his grip of Louis’ lapel. “Not sleeping with me?”

“Nah.” Louis’ eyes lowered to the carpet. “I’m a bit tipsy. I know what happened when he was drunk… I would never do that, but I want you to be completely comfortable around me all the time. So. Yeah. Sorry. I’ll just take the sofa.”

“Sorry, what?” Harry took a tiny step forward. “What’s that supposed to mean? You were never like him. You’re nothing like him.”

“I got a bit carried away with the shots.”

“Lou, it’s your birthday. That’s the way it should be.” Another step forward. “C’mhere.” Louis felt Harry’s arms envelop him tightly. “Let’s go to bed.” And with another chaste kiss on the lips, he softly closed the bedroom door behind them.

*

Christmas wasn’t supposed to be hard, but it had been. Louis couldn’t lie: he couldn’t wait to be in bed and to close his eyes on that dreadful day. The girls had been crying since that morning, their eyes red and puffy and their voices quivering as they thanked Louis for the presents. It had broken his heart to wake up to his alarm and not to his mother gentle voice whispering him her usual “Wake up, Boo, it’s Christmas!”. A lot of people had come by to keep them company during the day, until it had come to a point when Louis had had to ask everyone to leave. He could read on his sisters’ faces that they needed to spend some time on their own and he felt the exact same way.

By the time their relatives had left and Aunt Claire had excused herself to bed, all the Tomlinsons were sitting in the living room, mugs of hot chocolate warm in their hands. The soft crackling of the fireplace made a nice background noise as they sipped their cups in silence.

“Do you remember when” everyone turned to face Fiz, who was smiling softly around the rim of her mug. “Lou decided he wanted to become a ninja? And broke his ankle two days later falling down the stairs. And he didn’t want us to know…” she had to stop talking for a second to take a deep breath, her voice already trembling from laughter.

“... so he pretended he had gotten in a fight with that guy from his Maths class.” Lottie was bent in half, her eyes filled with tears, and the two older sisters were soon joined by the twins in their fit of laughter.

“You girls are being mean! Why did you bring that up, anyway? I never _casually_ mentioned the fact that you have a crush on Liam, Fiz…” Louis’ eyes were lit with mischief, his lips curved into a small grin.

“I do not!” Fiz blushed violently, shying away from her sisters’ amused glances.

“... Oh, by the way. He’ coming over for New Year’s Eve. Hope that’s okay?” Louis refused to look away from his sister, whose cheeks were now flushed in a bright shade of pink.

“What about that boy of yours, mh?” Lottie broke the silence. “Is he coming to visit, too?”

“I dunno.” Louis shrugged, his mind running to Harry for the millionth time of the day. “Maybe.”

“You’ve got a boyfriend?” Daisy perked up, lifting her head from the sofa armrest.

“Show us a picture!” Phoebe nearly shouted, her eyes pierced in Louis’. “Pretty please?”

“Well, thank you Lottie.” He mumbled as he grabbed his phone and unlocked it. He opened the camera roll and started scrolling to the top. “Thank you so much.”

*

“Hello?”

“Hey, hi love. How are you?”

“Mh. So so. How are you, Lou?”

“That kinda rhymes. I’m good, but my sisters are being a serious threat to my mental health.”

“Oh, come on! Can’t be that bad. What did they do?”

“Found out about us. Wanted to see pictures. Fell in love with your curls. Nothing new, right?”

“Oh my god.”

“Haz? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

“‘s okay. How did Christmas with the Paynes go?”

“It was weird. Missed mum and Gem, but Liam’s like family, so.”

“Yeah, it’s weird without mum, isn’t it?”

“Oh god, Lou, I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. How are you? How did today go? Your sisters alright? Oh my god.”

“It’s fine, Haz. It was hard, not gonna deny that. But, y’know. It is what it is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t feel like Christmas at all, to be honest. But everyone loved their presents. Thanks for the help with picking them up, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, nah.  It’s alright. I was  just thinking. That, uhm, maybe? Yeah. That maybe you-could-come-along-with-Liam. Like, spend New Year’s Eve here or something. We have a spare room, and Liam could take my bed. Liam’s probably going out that night but I’m staying in with the twins. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s, like. I just miss you? Yeah, I miss you a lot.”

“Lou.”

“Ok, sorry, shouldn’t have asked.”

“Lou. Was gonna say yes. Just... I can take the sofa, yeah?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Gotta go now. I love you, H. Talk soon?”

“Talk soon, Lou.”

*

_I am an idiot._ Harry had known he was one for the longest time, really. It was fine, most of the time: he would sometime ask a friend how his boyfriend was (“oh, he cheated on me last year. We broke up.”) or called one of his aunt with the wrong name (to be fair, he had seven aunts and four of them shared the same wardrobe collection.); this time, though, he had proven himself to be not only an idiot, but a self-centred one, the worst kind. He had actually compared his day to Louis’. Louis, whose mother died a little over a month ago, and who was probably trying to cheer his sisters up in that very moment.

And okay, maybe he had had a crappy day. He had barely slept, in the guest room at the end of Liam’s hallway, Nick’s voice louder than it had been in weeks, Louis’ touch more distant than ever.

Liam had woken him up with a cup of tea and a cuddle (“What, Styles? I need some advice. Scoot over.”), but when he had left half an hour later his mood had dropped again.

His sister had sent him a voice message, a minute and a half of weepy Christmas wishes and soppy “We love you so, so much!” from her and his mom. It was his second Christmas away from home.

Last year, Nick had insisted on staying at home by themselves, saying that it was an important moment in the building of their new, independent family. Harry had cried hidden in the bathroom for half an hour after calling his family, then he had taken a shower and served breakfast for two. He had hiding his emotion down to art by that moment.

So, he had done it again, and again, and again. For nine months: not a single word had escaped his lips before an attentive analysis: _Will he get mad? Will he hit me? Is his mood good enough to understand irony?_

And then… And then all the words he hadn’t spoke had come out at once, all the tears he had refused to cry had started streaming down his cheeks, and all the emotions he had so carefully buried beneath layers and layers of silence had broken out; and now they were all there, fulling his chest with butterflies he had forgotten he could feel and weighting his mind down with the burden of a broken love.

The Paynes were lovely, and Liam’s mom was an excellent cook. He had still felt a tug at his chest at the thought of _home_ , his home before all of that mess, and at the feeling of anticipation that he always started feeling weeks before Christmas. A sudden wave of sadness had run over him: he couldn’t shake off the feeling of having wasted the best years of his life in a relationship that had him done nothing more than harm.

The rest of the day had passed in a haze, his mood only brightening up a bit after receiving Louis’ text, and Harry couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over and done with.

Louis’ call had startled him out of sleep. He had picked up with a sleepy voice, excited to hear Louis’ voice wishing him goodnight. The call had been way better than he expected: even though the thought of spending the night at Louis’ house made his chest tighten with nervousness, he couldn’t wait to spend New Year’s Eve in Doncaster. He trusted Louis. Louis loved him, and he always had some love to give. Louis was good and caring and always _so, so gentle_. Harry fell asleep with a faint smile pasted on his lips, a warm feeling of happiness filling up his chest.  

It was Christmas, after all.

 


	11. Family

**Chapter XI**

**Family**

 

Louis’ family was a turmoil. Firstly, there was too many of them: the house seemed too small for everyone to fit. Somehow, they did, though, even if it meant the walls were lined with piles of dirty clothes and the kitchen table was a bit too crowded and their elbows kept knocking together when they were trying to cut their steaks.

Secondly, Louis' sisters had taken from his messiness, so the whole floor was scattered with toys, clothes, school books. Lastly, there was always someone bickering for the dumbest reasons, acute female shrieks breaking the silence that enveloped the household ever so rarely.

Harry loved it.

He couldn't believe he had arrived just a couple of days before: the family had welcomed him as a long lost friend and he hadn't felt out of place even for a moment. It was refreshing to have so many people around, when loneliness was his worst enemy. He never wanted to leave.

New Year’s Eve had come and gone, the night spent baking cookies with the girls and cuddling on the sofa, until Liam had come back from the party in such a poor state that they had to leave an empty bucket beside him in case he had to puke.

Liam had slept on the sofa bed in Louis' room since the day they had arrived, while Harry had asked to take the couch in the living room. Liam had shot him a questioning look, but hadn't asked about it. Harry just wasn't confident enough to share Louis' childhood bedroom with him yet. Plus, he didn't know how much the girls knew about them, and didn't want to make it awkward. Louis hadn’t seemed bothered by his choice, because he had just smiled one of his _HarrySmiles_ and winked at him.

It was a quiet Monday night, and Liam and Harry were supposed to leave on Tuesday morning.

Liam was playing Risiko sprawled face down on the carpet, with Daisy balancing a piece of paper on his back and using it as a improvised desk to draw on. Lottie was trying to keep up with the game while texting at the same time, while Fizz was sitting a bit stiffly just across Liam, and it looked like she couldn't take his eyes off from him. Which, no. Louis would have to address that, at some point.

Not right now, though.

Right now, he was sitting on the sofa playing Call of Duty, and Harry was sitting on the floor with his head resting on Louis’ legs. He didn't want to read too much into it, but he hadn't felt this content in a long time. He was home, his family was in the same room as his best mate and the person he loved the most in the world was lazily curled against him.

He smiled softly at the tv. A couple of seconds later, just as sniper shot him from somewhere on his left, Harry lifted his head from were it was resting on his legs. He had that insecure look on his face that Louis had learnt to hate.

"H?" He asked, an edge of worry noticeable in just that letter. "You okay?"

It still got a bit too much, sometimes, especially since the Tomlinson's household was always so loud and messy, and Louis had honestly been surprised by how well Harry was coping with his family, considering he still had problems with violent noises from time to time.

"Yeah." Harry rushed out, smiling nervously. "Yeah, I'm fantastic. Actually, uhm. I was wondering... Like, Liam heads back tomorrow, yeah? And we don't have classes until Monday. So, like. I was wondering if I could stay a little longer? I get it if you want to have time with them without me in the way so don't worry if you don't want to-"

Louis laughed relieved, fondness softening his features. "Harry, breathe. Yeah, yeah. Of course I want you to stay."

"-I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked- wait, what? Yes? Oh, okay. Okay."

Louis cupped Harry's cheek with his hand, wishing so bad he could lean over and kiss every insecurity out of him. "Of course, silly. It's gonna be great."

Harry smiled up to him with his eyes sparkling with gratitude, and Louis had to focus back to the game to keep his impure thoughts at bay.

 

*****

 

“Don’t forget to text me when you get home.” He smiled and dug in for another hug.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Harry. You sound just like my mom.” Liam smiled cheekily and opened his car without looking behind himself. “I will, of course. And you two” he let his gaze flick between Harry and Louis, a hint of amusement hidden in the corners of his chocolate brown eyes “behave. Don’t want to become uncle any time soon.”

“Just go, Lima, just go.” Louis half-laughed, his hand resting gingerly on the small of Harry’s back. Liam waved goodbye and got in the car. The two of them didn’t move until his Audi disappeared in the distance.

“So.” Louis began, putting some distance between them. “I was thinking. We haven’t had a proper date in a while, mh? And I know this really good restaurant. So maybe we could go tonight. Just me and you, of course.”

“Proper date, mh? Fancy.” His voice carried a hint of soft fondness, his eyes meeting Louis’ nervous gaze.

“Gonna wine and dine you.” He added, softly squeezing his bicep before gently pulling him inside. “Come on in, it’s freezing.”

Harry looked down at himself, before fixing his gaze on his reflection on the full-length mirror in Lottie’s room. He was wearing a crumpled light blue shirt (thank god he had decided to pack one) and his favourite pair of black skinnies, his hair styled up in a messy mop of curls.

Lottie knocked softly at the bedroom door, letting her head peck in. She whistled playfully at the sight of him. “Looking good.” Harry ducked his head down, blushing. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. Need my hair straightener.”

“No problem. And thanks for the mirror.”

She let go of a breathy giggle, one that reminded Harry of Louis’. “Anytime. Lou’s almost ready, by the way.”

“Uhm, sure, thanks.” The door closed and the room went silent again, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. _She must know about us_. The realization made his inside tingle with excitement. They were an item, apparently. They had been for a while, he knew that. Still, the fact that Louis’ sister had acknowledged it made it feel way more real, more permanent. Like Louis had all of the intention of making it last, of being in this for the long run.

He made his way downstairs, where Louis was standing leaning against the kitchen doorframe. He was looking gorgeous, with his hair styled up in a tall quiff and the reflection of the fairy-lights still hung up in the kitchen lighting up his blue eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he whispered “Wow.”. By the way Louis blushed, though, he knew it had been loud enough for him to hear it. He closed the distance between them and let out a breathy laugh. “You’re looking… wow.” Louis’ expression was cheeky when he looked up to him again.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Styles.” He gave him an once-over, nodding fervently as he tried to duck away from the playful slap to his arm. They both stilled in the dimly lit hallway, before Louis stood on his tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. Harry gave in easily, the kiss turning a tad more heated when he parted his lips and let Louis’ tongue dart in his mouth.

“We better get going.” Louis said, breaking the kiss. “The reservation is at 8.”

They ducked into the crowded living room, where the girls were watching Home Alone and Aunt Claire was reading a magazine sipping tea. “Bye girls, see you later.” Louis kissed each one of them of the forehead, before squeezing his aunt in an hug and waving them goodbye. It felt a lot like every goodbye could be the last time he saw them and the thought made him anxious and nervous. But there was something lying under than faint veil of insecurity, something stronger and much more powerful. He could feel it in his chest, filling him up with warmth and light. Love. His love for Harry, so strong and pure that he felt himself floating with it, so easy and simple even though it was nothing but complicated. He felt another wave of affection wash over him as Harry reached over to lace their fingers over the table, once they were seated at their table.

“This okay?” Harry asked, his eyebrows knitted in doubt. “I know how it can get in your home town.”

Louis nodded twice, his expression relaxed and open. “Nah. I mean, even before I was officially out, everyone knew I was gay. Might have been the red jeans? Or the stupid pink polos I always wore.”

“Oh, please. I used to go to school with a fucking flower crown.” They both laughed at that, sharing some other stories about their embarrassing fashion choices from 2010.

“What are you getting?” Louis asked, peeking over his menu.

"I was thinking about tortellini."

"Oh god, good choice." He closed the menu and focused back to his face, his blue eyes bright and open in the soft light of the restaurant. It was quite fancy, the walls lined with black and white prints of historical pictures, the tablecloth thick in its expensive cut. Harry felt a bit underdressed in his crumpled shirt and and worn out black skinnies. Louis didn't seem to mind, though. "So" he asked, leaning slightly forward. "Did my family scare you out?"

"Nah, they're lovely. I think the twins are a bit jealous, though. I caught them giving me some death glares..."

"Typical of them. They've scared many of my mom's dates away. There was this guy, a couple of years ag- No way. No fucking way. JESS?" He was sitting a bit straighter now, waving at someone behind Harry's back. "So long no see!" He added, his accent going a bit thicker.

"Tomlinson!" A female voice nearly shouted, a blonde, very pregnant woman coming into view. Louis stood up quickly, enveloping her in a tight but gentle hug. When they broke apart, they were laughing at something that hadn't been loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Look at you.” Louis whispered, voice soft and eyes sparkling.

“Shut up, Louis. You’re the one who’s studying to become doctor, and all that.” She made a dismissive movement with her hand, the bracelets on her wrist tingling lightly.

“Yes, right, but I’m not carrying a new life inside of me in this very moment. And all that.” He bit back, the irony in his voice contrasting with the fondness of his expression. “Let me introduce you my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Hey, congratulations.” Harry kissed her once on each cheek, unable to control the wave of pride washing over him at the sound of Louis’ words. “Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-four.” She answered, an hand moving instinctively to protect her belly. “Observing.”

He congratulated again, letting Louis take over the conversation and ask Jess a few more questions to catch up with her.

“Heard about your mom. She was such a sweet woman, I’m so sorry. Remember when she used to think that we were dating in secret? And you were as flamboyant as one can get without using glitters.” The laughed at the memory, the intimacy of it all making Harry’s chest tight with love. Jess’ husband joined them after a couple of minutes, and after the obligatory round of introductions they went to sit to their table with a promise of keeping them updated about the pregnancy.

“Wow, now I feel weird.” Louis giggled while pouring himself a glass of water. “Grew up together, Jess and I. She’s a good laugh. Surreal how she’s all settled down now, with a husband and a son. Oh, and by the way, what the hell were those numbers all about? Pretty sure your mom taught you it’s not nice to ask about a woman’s age…”

“Oh, Lou.” Harry answered, his head shaking from side to side. “It was the number of weeks! How can you not know it, when you have four younger sisters?”

“Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Pediatrician. In my defense, I was too young to care about fetus talk then.”

Harry was still laughing when the waitress got to their table to take their order. Before she left, Harry cleared his throat and added: “Could you bring us a bottle of red too, please?” She nodded efficiently, scribbled the addition on her pad and walked away.

Louis smiled sweetly and squeezed his hand a bit tighter, but didn’t comment on it.

The night went smoothly, the wine tinging Harry’s lips of a darker shade and making Louis’ cheeks blush a little.

Louis couldn’t remember being this happy in a long time. He had his boy - _god, I am so lucky_ \- right within reach and they were talking about _holidays_ and _children_ and it didn’t have to mean anything, but it felt so intimate and precious that Louis wished he could save that memory forever, keep it stored somewhere safe in the back of his head.

They walked their way back to Louis’ house holding hands, and they stood on the front porch making out until the tip of their noses were freezing and they couldn’t feel their fingers anymore. They stumbled in the quiet house, high on each other’s laugh, and took off their scarves and coats quickly as they shared another giggle.

“You up for a cuddle?” Harry asked, hanging his coat on the hook by the door.

“‘M always up for a cuddle. Is it okay if we go to my room?” Louis’ eyes were hopeful, the pleasant warmth of wine radiating from his relaxed expression.

“Oookay. Go on, I need to brush my teeth first.”

Louis pecked his lips once before going upstair to his room. He peeled his trousers off - they did make his bum look heavenly, but they were so tight he could barely breathe - and put on a pair of joggers and the first t-shirt he could find. God, he _hated_ dressing up.

There was a soft knock at the door before Harry opened it slightly and stepped in the room. His hair was tied up in a loose bun and he had changed into a more comfortable outfit. Louis was momentarily taken aback by the intimacy of it all.

 _I want this every day of my life_. he found himself thinking, as Harry lied down beside him on his childhood bed and slot his feet between Louis’. _I’ve had too much wine._ He added, scoffing at himself, because he had never been so sappy in his life. What could he do? Harry changed all the rules, apparently.

“Best date. Ever.” Harry whispered, kissing Louis on the mouth and resting his hand on the small of his back. Louis kissed him deeply and moved a bit closer, his whole body alight under Harry’s touch. He didn’t know if he could push it. The night had been great so far, and ordering the wine had already been a step forward; he didn’t want to ruin everything by being too pushy. He willed himself to put some distance between their groins and slow down the kisses, that became less rushed and somehow sweeter. Louis could feel Harry’s hand losing his grip and his breaths evening out, so he pulled away and pecked him on his left cheek.

“Babe, you’re falling asleep. Do you want to sleep here with me? Or I can take the couch.”

“Don’t go.” He mumbled, as he shifted on his side with his back pressed to Louis chest and dragged Louis’ arm to hug him tight. “Can we go for a walk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course babe. Now sleep. Love you.” Harry didn’t answer. He was already asleep.

The following morning, Louis woke up to someone stirring beside him on the tiny bed, almost making him fall off. He instinctively reached out to grab something to hold onto, which resulted in a fit of giggle from Harry who was accidentally being tickled by Louis' attempt at not falling on the floor.

“Good morning.” Harry didn’t answer, but leaned in for a kiss, which had Louis chest swirling with butterflies. “Morning breath.” He complained when they broke apart, scrunching his nose in mock disgust.

“Shut up.” He made to stand up, but Louis dragged him back to the bed to steal another few kisses before letting go. They walked to the kitchen together, greeting an unfazed Lottie, who was texting and eating cereal and didn’t seem to mind the fact that his brother had just emerged from his bedroom with another boy. They had breakfast together, their bubbly mood affecting the whole household and bringing them outside to build a snowman.

When the girls were exhausted from the snowball fight and Aunt Claire called for the hot chocolate, Harry and Louis brushed off the offer and went for a walk in the neighbourhood. It was silent and quiet, the whole street blanketed in snow and their words condensing in white clouds as soon as they spoke them.

It felt cosy and warm, despite the biting cold. Louis found himself wishing he could stay there forever.

*

 

Everything had to be soft with Harry. No sharp edges, no rough textures. Soft words and light gestures and measured movements.  
Louis never raised his voice, let alone jokingly wrestled him on the sofa. Even if he didn't want to admit it, it made Louis sad to always have to be so in control. He could never let himself go, scared that something he said could make Harry flinch or lower his gaze. However, despite having to swallow so many bitter words when Harry refused to leave the apartment before checking for the 5th time if the alarm was set, he always felt nothing but love for that boy.He would wrap his arm around him - _no, not like that. He always did like that, Lou, please. Sorry._ \- and whisper sweet nothings until he felt the muscles relaxing and the grip soften.

It was exhausting.

The night came with a complex ritual of body wash, lights flicks, hushed steps to the toilet.   
It took Harry more than half an hour to fall asleep, no matter how tired he was. Louis always waited until he was sure Harry was asleep to let himself drown in his dreams. Usually, nightmares.  
At 4 am, Harry would get up to drink, turning on and off the lights 3 times. At night it got worse - _I woke up to his hands touching me, sometimes_ \- and Louis always kissed salty tears away when Harry stumbled back to bed.  
But every morning, no matter how long it took to fall back to sleep after all the crying and the loud sobbing - Louis would wake Harry with a mug of black coffee on the night table and a soft kiss on the forehead.

"Good morning, love" nothing more than a whisper, because everything had to be soft with Harry.  
He always replied with a grunt, hiding his face under the duvet. It was adorable, and too, too much for Louis heart.

 

"I don't ever want to leave this bed" Harry said on a cold, windy February morning, voice muffled by the white fabric.

"Your shift starts in an hour, Harry. And you need to take a shower... No offense, but I can smell you from here".

"But here is so comfortable, Lou. I'm never leaving this bed again". Harry’s eyes pecked out of the blanket, still groggy from sleep.

"Alright, babe. You can stay another 10 mins, but I gotta go. You up for sushi at lunch? I'll pick you up" he was already leaning in to plant another kiss on his lips as a goodbye, when Harry’s eyes pierced his with unusual intensity.

"Stay?" He practically begged, unblinkingly, lifting one arm to make room for Louis on the bed. How on Earth could he resist? It was so unlikely that Harry actively asked for his presence that Louis couldn't bring himself to refuse.

He smiled lazily, without looking away.

"Let me just call Bob to tell him you're not gonna make it, yeah?" At that Harry beamed, taking Louis’ face closer to his and kissing the tip of his nose. He felt a rush of fondness coloring his cheeks pink. "I'll be back soon".

He could skip a day of university, it was not a big deal. Plus, he didn’t want to leave Harry on his own for too long: he had a tendency to dwell on his thoughts too much and to eat to little. So, not acceptable. Not now, when he was starting to get better. Progress, right? Louis could work with progress. It made the future so much more exciting, and not so unrealistically far.

Louis had started to think of Harry as of family. It was a weird concept for him, especially after his mom had passed away.

To Louis, family came in many different shapes.

Family was his mom cooking dinner with her hair tied up in a bun; family was his sisters playing cards with him; family was Liam and Niall texting him to ask if he’d gotten home safely after a night out; family was Harry singing under his breath as he was making dinner.

Harry was _everything_ , to be honest.

He was the first thing he thought of in the morning, when his brain still hadn’t woken up completely; he was the last thing he thought of at night, when was he going through everything he had done during the day, to update his mom on what he was up to.

Harry was in every song, every poem, every movie. He was the sweet scent of home in the midst of winter, the innocent sound of children’s laugh, the bright colours of flowers on Columbia Road.

Louis couldn’t get enough of him.

He was learning to love all of Harry: the silence before he gathered enough guts to say something he was scared of, the fact that he couldn't fall asleep if he hadn't double (or triple) checked the lights, his soft voice when he sang in the shower. It wasn't always easy. Sometimes Louis got an headache before going to bed, Harry's complicated ritual getting on his nerves. But he always kissed him goodnight, always made sure Harry knew he loved him.

They were adjusting around each other, finding new ways for their lives to intertwine, and even though it took time and patience, Louis could not think of a better way to spend his days.


	12. Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> Well, we're getting closer and closer to the end of this mad journey. It's been a long one, can't deny that!  
> I'd like to thank everyone who has supported me and this fic. I'd be nowhere without all of you, guys!  
> Chapter XIII shouldn't take too long, should be up around Christmas.  
> Love you all  
> xxx  
> Sil

**Chapter XII**

**Struggle**

 

When Spring rolled around sooner than expected, Harry and Lou were more in love than ever. Harry hadn’t said it out loud, technically, but Louis knew the feeling was mutual: he could tell by the way Harry worried about him, looked at him, took care of him. There had been this new softness, tucked away in the corner of his eyes, that had made Louis blush under its intensity for the past few weeks. But then again, maybe he was reading too much into it: it was easier to imagine Harry to be in love with him when the flowers were starting to blossom and the air was scented with the perfume of flowers.

Harry’s progress was starting to show, slowly but steadily. He wasn’t scared of going to school or to class by himself, he could easily manage making small talks with customers at work and was working on opening up with Louis. Susie had encouraged him to do it in a particularly intense session, just a few days back.

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted, nervously playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “I mean, why would it matter anyway? It’s in the past.”

“Well” Susie interjected gently, her face open and relaxed. “It’s in the past, yeah. But even if it doesn’t define you, it’s been an important part of your life, right?”

“Yeah, but. Like. That’s not me anymore. I don’t want to scare him off with this fucked-up horror story about some other guy.” He was feeling cornered and his pitch had instinctively gone a tad higher, his posture stiff and defensive. He didn’t like where it was going.

“How long have you been dating?” Her tone sounded off-handed, but Harry knew better.

“A bit over 4 months.” Harry answered, without thinking. Everything about their relationship felt so easy, so instinctive - he never had to think about it, when it came to them.

“Do you think Louis is a smart guy?”

Harry looked at her, confusion written all over his face. “Yeah, of course. He’s brilliant, actually.” Before he could go on with a little speech on how proud he was of Lou’s top marks in each class, she went on.

“And you’ve told me several times already that he knows that Nick wasn’t always respectful of you.” Harry nodded, slowly. Where was this going? “So, Louis basically knows that you’d been through quite a lot in the past few years, and has seen you at your lowest.”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s still here.”

“Yeah. I don’t see where this-?”

“Harry, you’re scared he’s gonna think less of you if you tell him about Nick. Well, that seems pretty unfair to him, from my point of view. He’s stuck around through worse, hasn't he? So, I think he deserves your trust. You don’t have to tell him, of course. But if the reason is that you think it’s gonna change his opinion on you, then you don’t have a point.”

Harry knew that. He knew Louis had been nothing but understanding and loving with him for the past few months. Still, a sheer veil of anxiety settled over him has he promised Susie that he would have thought about it. He knew it was a slim chance, but he couldn’t think about losing Lou.

He got out of the building, the pale April sun washing over him. He fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans jacket and switched it on.

_From: Lou <3 [3:07 pm]_

_hey babe. what about a movie tonight? u get to pick xxx_

__

_To: Lou <3 [3:32 pm]_

_nah, tonight is date night! wear your blue shirt. tonight’s on me xxx_

__

_From: Lou <3 [3:34 pm]_

_that’s my boy. love you Haz :) ps: you may want to look up from that phone before crossing xxx_

Harry did as he had been instructed, looking up in confusion. On the other side of the street, Louis was grinning at him with his hands in his pocket, a sly grin wide on his face. Harry’s heart made a leap in his chest, and if he risked his life running to his boy, no one could blame him.

*

The first time Harry opened up about Nick - in an honest, unfiltered way - the first flowers had started blossoming on Hyde Park’s trees.

“He used to be nice, Nick. It was really good at the beginning. I mean, he hadn’t come out yet, and we had to be all secretive around his family, but he used to shower me with attentions and love. When we moved to London, I felt like my life was already falling into place. It was like I had the world at my feet.” He laughed at himself, a bitter grin on his face.

“And then he started to change. I mean, at first I thought it was just the stress, with his new work and the moving and all. He started being really snappy and get proper upset about stupid stuff, like if I forgot to pick up his favourite cereal or to warm his dinner up. He would text me saying he was feeling down every time I hung out with my uni friends or you guys. He knew that that no matter how many times he it played it, that card would always work, and I would have come home to him in a heartbeat. We had made a promise, after three months of dating, swearing to always be there for each other when we were feeling down. I felt like betraying that vow we made at sixteen would have been the last stroke to our relationship, and I didn’t want to wipe out the last of innocence left.” He took a sharp intake of breath, his stance tense. “One night, we went out clubbing. It was one of his mates birthday party and we drank a bit too much. On the taxi home, he couldn’t keep his hands from me. I was not feeling it. It had been a great night, but my head felt swimmy and I have always hated PDA, so I was feeling uncomfortable with him touching me like that in the taxi. I told him, but he kept touching. So I tried again, and told him I was tired. He told me to shut up.” Harry stood up and went to the window. He could hear the rustle of London behind the glass, the city moving with its unnerving usual energy.

Louis briefly wondered how it could be possible for the world to exist beyond the two of them, when it felt like so much was going on in that room alone. He swallowed the lump in his throat, as he waited for Harry to continue.

“We got home, and he kept trying to… to touch me. I didn’t want to, and had started feeling the alcohol kick in, so I told him I was going to bed. He made some comments, but I didn’t pay much attention to them. I just wanted some sleep and some Advil in the morning.”

The silent stretched a bit longer, this time. Louis made to stand up and hug Harry, but decided against it. Harry probably needed some space right now, and he didn’t want to make it any more difficult for him.

“I fell asleep almost instantly. And then.” Harry ducked his head, staring at his hands. He felt so distant, almost as if it was someone else speaking, and the words escaping from his lips were the echo of someone else’s story. “And then I woke up at him touching me. But it wasn’t, like, gentle, or teasing, or to rile me up. He just wanted me to…”. Silence, again. “He held my hands above my head. I asked him to stop, again and again, and he wouldn’t listen.”

Louis felt nauseous. He had never felt so sad and angry at the same time.

All of this he thought, his jaw clenched happened to _Harry. My Harry. He did all of this to him._

“When I woke up, I thought it had just been a bad dream. But then I tried moving, and he was all over me, and I realised it wasn’t a dream. I was going to take a shower and then leave, but when I got out of the bathroom, he was there, crying. He started apologising, saying how sorry he was, how drunk he had been, how utterly unacceptable what he had done was. He told me that he wouldn’t have blamed me if I had decided to leave, but then he started crying again and saying about how he hated himself, how his dad had been right about him all along and - fuck” he pressed the palm of his hands on his eyes, and groaned in frustration. He couldn’t help but feel stupid and naive when he looked back. Susie had told him that what had happened was not his fault, over and over again. It was all on Nick, and technically he _knew_ it. He still wished he could go back in time and force some sense into his head, though.

“Oh babe.” Louis whispered, his eyes filled with tears. He didn’t dare stand up yet, sensing that Harry needed to get it all out before curling in his hold.

“So I stayed. And then it happened again, only this time he wasn’t drunk. He bought me flowers, and said he was sorry. He cried some more. I cried. There was a lot of crying in our relationship, in retrospect. I threatened to leave, but never got the guts to. Eventually, it became a pattern.”

The distant sound of someone shouting carried through the closed window, and when Harry started speaking again, he had lowered his voice so that it was barely audible. “He started beating me up. Like, even when I didn’t want to. Even after I had used my safe word four, five times. It started to lose meaning. It got so bad, sometimes I had to skip uni because not even makeup could cover up the bruises. And then I had enough. He was so drunk, the night I left, he probably didn’t even notice. God, I was such a mess.”

And with that, Harry crumbled. He started shaking, loud sobs escaping his lips, his shoulders jutted forward. Louis stood up and hugged him tightly, standing on his tiptoes to try and hold him close. They moved to the bed, Harry curling with his back to Louis and fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“You were not a mess. He was, babe.” Louis whispered, when Harry had stopped breathing in an incoherent pattern.

“Lou.” He answered, turning a bit to sneak a glance at him. “I was so scared, all the time.”

“Shh. It’s alright, babe. You’re okay, now, remember? You’re here. You’re good. You’ve been so brave.” He placed a kiss on the top of his head, before going back to stroking his hair softly. Harry had told him it always made him feel sleepy, so he kept going. He just wanted him to get some rest, and his dreams to be filled with light and warmth.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked after a while, the words echoing in the silent room.

“How brave and strong you are. How sorry I am that you had to go through that. How you’re too good for your own good.” _What a bastard he is. How fucking vile it is to take advantage of someone like that, and make them feel bad about leaving. I want to kill him._

“I know.” He sniffled, moving on his back so he was facing up. “That’s what I told myself, in the beginning. Too good for my own good. But then Susie said all this stuff, and I thought a lot about it, and I think she’s right.”

Louis moved his hand to his shoulder, and went on tracing gentle lines on his collarbone, above his t-shirt. “What did she say?”

“Well, like.” He seemed to think it over, unsure about how to phrase it. “She asked me ‘So let’s say your naivety is the reason for all of that. Let’s just pretend that for a second. Imagine that you could go back in time, and start all over again, but without that trait. Would it be the same? Would it still be you?’. So I replied ‘No, of course not.’ And then she didn’t say anything for a while, so I felt like I had to add something. ‘Well, I guess that’s a big part of who I am as a person. I mean, not only the naivety, but this feeling of trust I feel for the world.’ ‘Ok, let’s try and change our perspective. Take one of your best friends, right? Say, Niall. What’s his most distinctive feature? Loyalty? Right. If he got in trouble to help you out with a tricky situation and you turned your back to him, who would you blame?’ ‘Well, I guess I took advantage of his good heart. So, it would be on me.’ And then the session was over, and she just told me to think about it. Which I did.”

Harry wasn’t smiling, but his tone was already feeling a bit more relaxed. Almost as if crying it out had helped. “And?” Louis prompted, when he realised that Harry wasn’t going to elaborate.

“I always see the good in people and strongly believe that everyone is inherently good.  Even though that means being vulnerable and getting hurt rather easily, I don't ever want to lose that naivety. I don’t wanna lose myself. I don’t want to lose my softness, despite how many things in this world fill me with rage. That’s what I want to live by, and that’s also why I want to see Nick again: I refuse to let myself be defined by what he did to me, and I want to prove myself that I can forgive him, if I want to.”

“Sometimes” Louis began slowly, deliberately ignoring the wave of uneasiness that Nick’s mention had stirred in his chest. “I wonder if I had been too quick to ask you out, and tell you how I felt, and all of that. Because you were so vulnerable, back then, and I still tried to win you…”

Harry shushed him, turning on his side so that they were facing each other. His eyes were red and swollen, and his curls matted to his forehead. Louis had never felt his fragility so close, so real before. It felt like the confession had drained him, and Louis wished he could take him back to a time were tears were only shed for sad movies, or at friends’ weddings.

“Lou, stop right there. You know why I ran away, that night? Because I knew I had somewhere to run to. Because I knew that I could count on you without a doubt, whatever choice I was to take.” His eyes were swelled up with unspoken emotions. “And I’m forever grateful for that. And your softness, this complete lack of judgement, the way you’re always so selfless and sweet… That’s what made me fall in love with you.” And, well. It was out. Harry’s heart skipped a few beats, and his cheeks flushed crimson. When he looked up, Louis was smiling like a maniac, his eyes crinkly and soft.

Louis knew what that had meant. Harry was letting him in, completely, exposing himself bare for Louis to see. _Am I still enough? Do you still love me?_ That’s what Harry’s eyes were asking, an hint of worry edged in the green of his irises. Louis raised an eyebrow, questioningly, and Harry nodded imperceptibly, so Louis leaned forward and kissed him, gentle and chaste.

Harry took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the kiss wash over him with a sigh of relief.

He was okay.

He was here.

He was good.

“I love you.” He whispered, his lips pressed on Louis’ hair.

Maybe he was quite brave, after all.

*

Eventually, the day came when Harry decided he was ready to take the final step of his healing process: forgiveness. Nick had been seeing a therapist as well, and had texted him a month earlier to ask him if he wanted to go for a coffee together to "sort things out". Harry had been really confused at first. He hadn't spoken about it with anyone (not even Louis), but it slipped him during his Friday session with Susie. She had patiently listened to all of his fears, before adding, gently: "Forgiving doesn't necessarily mean giving him a second chance. It means letting go." So Harry had gotten back to the flat, snuggled under the covers and cried for two hours straight. When Louis had come home, after a pint with Niall, he had found him sitting at the kitchen table, his lips set in a line and his fingers nervously tapping the wooden surface. Louis had learnt what that meant, by that moment: "I am not in control, but I'm trying to deal with it."

He had kissed Harry hello (a quick peck on his temple) before wrapping his arms around him and asking if everything was okay. Harry had blurted out the truth without meeting his gaze. Louis had held him tighter and whispered reassuring words. He had also managed to ignore the dread that clenched his chest at the mere thought of Nick.

 

 

They agreed on a Thursday: it was Nick's day off and Harry's lessons didn't start until 11. Nick suggested the bakery they used to go to when they first moved in together; Harry declined. He chose a place that was far enough from his and Louis' place that, if the meeting went terribly, he wouldn't have to see again.

The days leading up to it were hard on both Harry and Louis.

Louis didn't understand why Harry would want to see that arsehole again, and he couldn't help but feel worry at the thought of Harry hanging out with someone who had managed to fuck him up to much in the past. Harry was scared, too, but he also strongly believed that it was a necessary act to give that story a real closure.

Harry left at 9, his hair pulled up in a bun and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"Bye, love you" he called from the hallway, a hint of tension in his voice.

"Wait!" Louis shouted, emerging from the the kitchen. "Come here. Wanna kiss you goodbye. I love you, and everything will go well. Please call me if you need anything. Actually, call me anyway to let me know how it went." He took Harry’s face in his hands and dived in for a kiss. “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you too, thanks.” A faint smile curved Harry’s lips.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Louis let slip, even though they had talked about it twice and Harry had already stated his opinion.

“I’m sure. It’s something I have to do by myself and all that psychological shit I’ve already told you about.” He took a step towards the door and turned back just to smile at him one last time, before he was gone.

 

 

It was _wrong_. It was wrong and a low blow and he shouldn’t have been there.

Yet there he was, queuing to get his hot chocolate, a beanie low on his eyes and a pair of two-dollars sunglasses he had just bought on the corner of the street balanced on his nose, while Harry and Nick were getting their seats by the window. He hadn’t meant to follow Harry, of course. It was not like it had been intentional: he had to run a few errands, and he had strolled in front of the cafè Harry and Nick were supposed to meet at, and then he had found himself buying those stupid shades and getting inside, praying for Harry not to spot him.

He ordered his drink with a hint of tension in his voice, and was about to get out of there _quick, quick, before he sees you!_ when he heard Harry’s laugh resonating through the shop and _fuck, I’d recognise that laugh anywhere_. He felt the dull pain of jealousy pool at the bottom of his stomach - because _why in the world would you laugh with your abuser?_

A woman inadvertently shoved him to the left, bringing him back to reality. She was still apologising profusely when he snapped out of his trance and made his way out of the shop, the bustle of the city hitting him like a slap.

 _What the fuck have I done?!_ He asked himself, hastily throwing the sunglasses in the first trashcan he spotted as he started walking away from the cafè. What he had just done was wrong on so many levels. He had broken his promise, Harry’s trust and acted like one of those jealous freaks that followed their partner everywhere they went. He felt miserable: the guilt hadn’t yet settled in his stomach when he opened the apartment door. He quickly changed into a pair of joggers and a Nike t-shirt, grabbed his headphones and left the flat again.

Going for a run was better than sitting around waiting for a call. He deserved some suffering anyway.

 

“So, you’ve got a boyfriend now, from what I’ve got?” Nick leaned back, tilting his chair backward.

“Yeah.” Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

“Is he nice?” Nick seemed relaxed, but Harry knew better. The way his lips were slightly curved downwards was a clear sign of distress. It had meant _danger, do not contradict him!_ for so, so long, that Harry’s gut still told him to be careful, to keep a distance.

“Yeah. Very.” Harry swallowed a gulp of his coffee, burning his tongue. “You know him. Louis?”

“Oh.” Nick’s expression turned a shade darker. “Oh.” He repeated, as his hands tightened around his mug. “I should have figured, I guess.” His gaze lowered and his knuckles whitened. It was weird to see him so weak, after having tried to forget about Nick’s vulnerable side for months. Thinking of him as this violent, merciless monster was way easier than considering him as the damaged young man he was. It was Nick’s normality to throw him off centre the most.

“And you?” Harry rushed, panic flooding his brain as these thoughts clouded up his brain. “Have you got someone?”

“No. My therapist says I better focus on myself, for now. I agree. I’ve done enough damage, haven’t I?” He laughed a bitter laugh, and Harry felt his stomach flip with fear. He was starting to feel caged. Lots of memories were being brought back by that laugh and he knew for a fact that he wasn’t ready to take them, yet.

“I better get going. My lesson starts in twenty minutes.” He said in a rush, starting to collect his stuff.

“Okay.” They both stood up, pushed their chairs under the table and walked to the exit. Once they were outside, they lingered awkwardly on the sidewalk.

“So” Nick started, zipping up his jacket. “Thanks for coming. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah.” Harry breathed out.

“This will sound extremely out of place, but. I have to say it. I’m sorry. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. I was fucked up. Still am, to be honest. I’m trying now, though. So, yeah. I’m sorry?”

“Okay.” Harry could feel his breath being cut short and his eyes watering, so he took a couple of steps back. “Bye, Nick.” He left without looking back.

 

 

When he got out of the shower, Louis found Harry sitting on the bathroom floor, his legs sprawled on the carpet and his head tilted against the wall. Louis immediately crouched down beside him, taking Harry’s hands in his and fixing him with a worried look.

“Oh my god, babe, you alright?”

“Oh” Harry replied, snapping out of his mind. His eyes seemed to clear up a bit. “Sorry, Lou. I knocked, but you didn’t hear.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay?” He shivered, his damp skin glistening under the cold lights of the bathroom. Harry didn’t answer, but leaned closer to Louis and let go of a shaking breath. It took them half an hour to get to the living room, their limbs tangled under the soft blue blanket and a quiet calm spreading over them.

“Harry, babe. Please tell me you’re okay.” Again, no answer. “If he did something, I swear…I knew I shouldn't have left" Louis held him a bit tighter, leaving a soft kiss at the top of his head.

"Left?" Harry's voice was puzzled, his head bent to the left as he instinctively moved a bit back. Louis' hand froze halfway through Harry's hair. "Lou? What do you mean left?"

"I meant that I shouldn't have let you go." But Louis had never been a good liar, had never been able to keep things from Harry.

"Louis." Harry repeated, and his voice carried such a deep hint of disappointment that Louis had to force himself to look at him. "Tell me you didn't follow me. Tell me that the boy with the red beanie I spotted out of the cafe wasn't you."

Louis didn't utter a single word. He wished he could lie. He wished he could easily deny, smiling at Harry and kissing him reassuringly. The thing is, he had already made a mistake, and lying now would only have meant betraying Harry again, and he didn’t think he had it in him to hurt him again.

The silence stretched for what felt like forever.

"Louis?" Harry tried again, his voice quivering with tears. Louis felt like crying, too.

No answer. Harry stood up, untangling himself from Louis legs, his movements abrupt and careless. He made his way to the bedroom, and shut the door without looking back.

 

 

Louis shift started in 3 minutes, but of course he had forgotten his wallet home - to be honest, his mind had been somewhere else for the past couple of days. Harry was actively trying to avoid him: they hadn't spoken since Harry had realised Louis had followed him, and Louis had been sleeping on the sofa with his blanket and a pillow. He had tried to break that stupid silence between them, but Harry hadn't even looked at him before leaving the room in a whirlwind. Louis wasn't sure about what to do to make it up to him, mostly because he felt so ashamed of himself that just thinking about what he had done made him feel uneasy. He was planning on giving Harry a couple of days to cool down and then give him a long, heartfelt apology. He hoped it was the right choice.

Louis climbed the stairs two steps at a time, fumbled with his keys on the landing, and finally managed to let himself in. The apartment was silent, and he rushed to the kitchen table, where all of his stuff were sprawled in a messy pile.

"... I know, I know. I'm still upset though." Louis froze as he heard Harry's voice coming out of the bathroom. "Gem, he fucking knew how important it was for me to do it on my own. I told him at least three times, and yet, he decides to disrespect my decision and follow me to that stupid cafe. What was he scared of, Gem? That I would cheat on him? Well, it's not like I'm not gonna run away from someone I love to go back to my abuser, right? I'm so, so mad, Gem."

Louis snapped out of the trance he had fallen into, grabbed his wallet and left.

 


	13. Learning

**Chapter XIII**

**Learning**

  
  


Harry skipped another song on his playlist. Fucking Louis, hiding in every single song.

He balanced his shopping bags on his left arm as he fished his keys from his pocket and opened the door. Soon after taking off his shoes, he smelled something good coming from the kitchen. Either Niall had picked up take away Chinese on his way home, or Liam was over and had been forced to cook. Harry felt a glint of annoyance at the bottom of his stomach. He didn't feel like pretending to be cheerful and companionable when all he wanted to do was crying.

He was ready to put on his "I'm tired and need a nap" face, when he heard Louis calling his name from the other room. "Harry! Hey, babe. Finally home?" He appeared on the door, his smile wide and his hair a mess. Harry's heart ached at the sight of how beautiful he was.

Harry didn't answer, just lazily scanned the room behind Louis to say hi to Niall before heading to bed.

"Haz." Louis took a step forward, his expression soft and worried. "I know you're still mad. It's okay if you are."

"Of course it is." Harry spit.

"Yeah, of course. But we haven't talked in three days and I'm so, so sorry. I want to try and make it up for you, if you want to. You can still be mad after tonight. But please? I cooked without burning the house down, and I think you should at least taste it."

Harry wished he could refuse. He really did. But he had never been strong, and he had always had a soft spot for Louis anyway. Without saying anything, he took off his coat and made his way to the kitchen.

Louis had set the table for two, poured two glasses of wine and lit a single candle in the middle of the table. Harry shot him a glance and took a seat, his hands nervously fiddling with the hem of the table cloth.

"How was your day?" Louis asked, as he busied himself with the stove.

"Alright, I guess."

"Good. Was planning on meeting Niall for lunch tomorrow, wanna join?"

"Dunno. We'll see."

"Okay." Louis turned around, holding two identical plates. "So. Chicken  stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash potatoes." He served them with a smile and sat opposite to him. " _ Buon appetito. _ "

Harry couldn't help but smile, genuinely surprised at Louis' attempt at cooking. He took a couple of bites: it actually tasted quite good.

"Not too bad, right?" Louis asked, his smile insecure and a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Nah, not too bad." Louis positively beamed at that, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. 

Harry kept silent for most of the night, just humming his assent every now and then while Louis chatted the night away. 

“... And we all know that Lynn has had a crush on Philip since last year, so we decided that they need to work together in that group project next-”

“Louis.” Harry let out a long, deep sigh. “You know this won’t fix things, right?”

Louis ducked his head a bit, resting his hands on the table. “I know. I just… I’m so sorry.”

“We need to talk about it.” Harry stood up, brought his plate to the kitchen sink and downed the rest of his water before adding: “Let’s go the living room.”

Louis followed him without a word.

 

“I know I’ve made probably the biggest mistake ever when I decided to follow you, and I’m so disappointed in myself. But I swear it was not about me not trusting you.” Louis was sitting on the right end of the sofa, his back straight and his body angled in a tense position to face Harry.

“What were you scared of, then?” Harry was trying to sound calm and not let his anger show. He wasn’t used to feel angry anymore - he had learnt to hide it, bury it beneath a thick layer of fake indifference. 

“I was scared he was gonna hurt you!” Louis’ voice sounded almost desperate, his tone higher than usual. 

“Oh, come on Louis. We were meeting in a cafè full of people and…-”

“Not physically. I was scared he was gonna say something…-” Harry couldn’t wait for him to finish the sentence: he knew where it was going. He had thought about it as well.  _ And then I’ll be the one left to pick up the pieces, again _ .

“I had to do it. By myself. I had to prove myself that I was strong enough to close this chapter of my life and let go.” Harry could start to feel tears pricking his eyes. 

“Oh babe.” Louis moved a bit closer, reaching out for his hands. “You are brave. Fuck, you’re so brave.” He moved his hands away from he had left them (halfway from Harry’s) to rub his eyes. “Okay, let me set things straight. You are the bravest soul I know, Harry. You walked away from an abusive relationship that had hurt you in every way possible for two years. You moved in with Niall, got back to uni and started getting your life together straight away. You got a job and started seeing a therapist soon after. You have always been so gentle and considerate with your friends, even when we were probably just making you feel uncomfortable or asking dumb questions. You always find something nice about everyone, and you make sure to let them know. You smile to strangers even if you’re having a crappy day.”

“That’s not being strong.” Harry shook his head, his curls sticking out at odd angles. 

“It is, if you have been through so much. You never let your struggles get in the way of being nice, and I love that about you.” Harry didn’t reply at that, so Louis continued. “And I am incredibly sorry for what I’ve done. I know you feel betrayed - and you’re completely right. But this, our relationship, is not always easy to understand, and I’m still learning. I’m still learning how to be with you and how to support you without hurting you, or without suffocating you… and sometimes it just gets too much and I feel like taking you somewhere no one can touch us, y’know? I’m sorry, it’s just- I love you so much, and I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you.” 

“I’m still learning, too. But I don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of porcelain.”

“But you were, for such a long time!” Louis cried out, letting go of a deep sigh that sounded like exhaustion. “Harry, I’m gonna be honest. Sometimes I don’t know how much you can take, so I prefer to be careful and not overstep any lines instead of being the reason for a breakdown. I care about you and I want you to be happy, first and foremost.”   
“Okay.” Harry raised his gaze to meet Louis’. It was starting to make sense, now. He could almost understand why Louis had done it; despite still feeling the sharp sting of betrayal, he could think about it without wanting to punch something. Progress. “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry that you always have to tiptoe around me. I promise that one day, we’ll be just a normal couple.” 

“Shut it, H. I don’t wanna be a normal couple.”

Harry smiled softly at that, his dimple nearly showing. “Thanks for the dinner, Lou.”

“You are very welcome.” Louis answered, before leaning forward and kissing his lips.

 

When they got in bed, a couple of hours later, Louis enveloped Harry in a tight hug. 

“This okay?”

“Yeah.” Harry whispered back, moving closer. “Apology accepted, by the way. Nick is a bastard and I’m never gonna see him again.”

“Thank you for, y’know, listening. I love you. I don’t care what you chose to do, as long as it makes you happy.”

“You make me quite happy, thank you very much.” Harry snuggled closer, and pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ shoulder, whispering “I love you.” just enough for Louis to hear it. 

 

*

 

Louis smiled wide, tightening his hold on Laura, as she slung her arms around his shoulders.

“ _ Ciao Laura, come stai? _ ” he asked, his tone smug and his lips curved in a gloating smile.

“Oooh.” She cooed. “Someone’s been practising!  _ Bene, grazie. Tu? _ ”

“ _ Bene, bene. _ You still haven’t taught me the fun stuff, though. This is too easy.”

“Although dirty talking in italian is hot, you’re not quite there yet. We’ll have to save it for another time. As in, ‘not in a busy  _ ristorante _ where probably 80% of the staff speaks Italian.’” She smirked as she walked to the waiter, exchanged a few words with him and walked to their table. 

They had decided they wanted something fancier than the usual beer at the pub. After all, Laura had just landed a job as a journalist that payed her triple what she had hoped for, and she wanted to celebrate with him. 

“How are the girls?” She asked, smiling politely at the waiter who collected their menus and walked away.

“They’re alright. I mean, both Lottie and Fiz are struggling a bit with school, but nothing too serious. Their teachers told me that a drop in performance is normal after such an important loss, so I’m not too worried. And the twins… Well, they’re seeing a counselor and stuff, so I think they’ll be fine.” He took a sip from his glass of wine the waiter had just brought them before continuing. “I hope we’ll work it out. I really hope we will.”

“Lou, from my perspective, you’re already doing it. I had no idea you could be so responsible, with you being the funny guy all the time… I mean, you’re doing a great job. I’m impressed.” And then she wiggled her eyebrows, because  _ of course _ she couldn’t ruin her reputation by getting emotional over Louis’ heart, right? And if someone argued those were tears in her eyes, well, fuck them, too.

Louis waited until they were halfway through their first courses before asking “How’s your italian boy, then?”

Laura let go of a disgruntled noise and took another generous sip of wine. “I wish I knew, honestly.”

“What? What happened? Do I need to fly to Italy and kick his ass or…?”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We just kind of, uhm, grew apart? I mean. I haven’t heard him in a week, so.”

“Oh babe.” She looked up at him, her hands gracefully locked around the glass stem. “But you’re gonna be home soon, right? With summer holidays and all. It’s just… temporary. The long distance, I mean.”

“Apparently, he couldn’t wait. I’ve seen a pic, on Facebook. Nothing scandalous, or anything. He’s with this girl, right? And they’re just talking sitting on a couch at some party, and there’s nothing suspicious about it, but she’s leaning into him and he’s smiling at her all soft and open. And I can feel him growing more and more distant every time I call him, so I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Her words had gotten more and more wavering as she went on, and Louis took her hand above the table to try and reassure her.

“What a dickhead.” He muttered, eyes fixed on Laura’s.

“But. We haven’t seen each other since Christmas, and I’ve been busy with uni…”

“What a dickhead.” Louis repeated, his tone definitive. “Who cares what’s the last time you’ve seen him? You deserve an explanation, at the very least.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” She squeezed Louis’ hand and thanked him, affection clear in her voice. “What about you, Lou? Harry?” Her tone was light again, and Louis took it as a desperate attempt at changing subject. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, fixing his hair in a nervous gesture. “I’ve messed up. Like, proper messed up.” Laura shot him a questioning glance, so he proceeded to tell her everything without leaving out any detail. He needed a sincere advice, and knew he could trust her with one. “Like, he told me he forgave me, but I still feel like I haven’t done enough. He’s told me several times that he’s not one to hold a grudge, but I don’t want him to think that I’m… y’know.” Louis cut himself off. Laura didn’t know about Nick, and it wasn’t his story to tell, but he could go for something less specific. “That I’m like his ex.” 

“Show him you’re not.” She filled their glasses again, before returning her full attention to him. Louis was staring at her in pure confusion. He had tried, of course, but everything had seemed so trivial, so clichè. “My advice on flowers still stands. But, we need to think big.”

He smiled, all conspiratorial and amused. “I’m listening.”

 

*

The first rose was yellow: “ _ promise of a new beginning”  _ written in Louis’ calligraphy on a note tied to the stem.

The second, deep burgundy: “ _ unconscious beauty.” _

Then there was white:  _ “purity.” _

Light pink:  _ “gentleness, grace.” _

Lastly, a red and a white one, tied together with a red ribbon.  _ “Unity. Forgive me?” _

Harry put the last two flowers upside down to dry them, along with the other fourteen, grabbed his keys and left the apartment. The bus ride was an anti-climatic practicality that he hadn’t considered, but it allowed him to think about the previous two weeks.

Louis had sent him a rose for each day of the past fifteen days, and each one had come with a note. When Harry had mentioned them to Louis, he had just shrugged and smiled innocently. “You have to wait for the bigger picture.” He had said, at Harry’s confused questions. 

_ I think I know, now _ . He went through each note mentally, as the bus came to a stop and Harry hopped off. The air was starting to get warmer, but leaving his jacket home hadn’t been a good idea anyway, so he tried to walk faster against the wind.  _I think I know_.

He buzzed the intercom and waited for Louis voice to invite him in, but the door clicked open two seconds later without any notice. He made his way inside and started jogging up the stairs. He didn’t have time to wait for the elevator. When he got to the flat’s landing, the door slung open, a dishevelled Liam muttering: “Sorry, Z, I’m a bit late. I- Harry?” He asked, surprise written all over his face. 

“Ehm, yeah- uhm. Was wondering if Lou’s home?” 

The intercom buzzed again, so Liam took two steps back to press a few buttons. “Must be Zayn.” He said, before going back to tying his shoelaces. “Yeah, he’s making dinner. I take it you liked his masterplan?”

Harry grinned as an answer before being pulled in a tight hug. As they broke apart, Liam gave him a wink. “Have fun.” 

Harry’s smile didn’t falter as he flipped him off and replied “You too.” before Liam got in the elevator to meet Zayn.

 

The only sound in the flat was Louis’ voice as he sang along to the Arctic Monkeys. He was with his back turned to the door, hips swaying gently to the music, Harry’s green sweatshirt covering half of his thighs. Harry took a step towards him, tripping over his own two feet, just as Louis turned around to check what Liam was doing still there. Harry breath caught as he noticed Louis eyes turn soft when he saw him.

“Oops.” He smiled, straightening up without taking his eyes off from Louis. 

“Hi.” Louis managed, instinctively taking a step in his direction. Harry bridged the distance between them and kissed him slowly, open-mouthed and deliberately long. 

“Wow.” Louis laughed, when they broke apart for air. He hurried back to the stove to turn it off. “Was making dinner.”

“It smells amazing.” Harry hugged him from behind, resting his head on the crook of his neck and placing a kiss on his hair. The love he was feeling for Louis was making him glow with excitement, his heart rabbiting in his chest. Louis was probably able to feel it, from the way he was pressed to his back, but he didn’t seem to mind. At least, not judging from his smile.

They shared their meal sitting on the sofa, stealing kisses between forkfuls and bites of each other’s food. They were being disgusting, Harry knew that. Did he care? Not one bit. 

“So.” He started, once they were finished and Louis entered the room with a bowl of ice-cream and two spoons. He motioned for the carpet, so they both moved to sit cross legged on the floor. “I got all the roses. And the notes.”

“And?” Louis prompted, looking at him through his eyelashes. 

“And  _ yes _ .  _ God,  _ yes, I forgive you.” He intertwined their fingers, resting their hands on his lap. “I had already forgiven you two weeks ago, babe. With the dinner and all.” 

Louis sighed, smiling fondly. “I know, I know. That’s exactly the reason why I wanted to do that.” At Harry’s confused glance, he looked down at their joined hands and went on. “You said that Nick always took advantage of your inability to hold a grudge. I know I’ve messed up, and I wanted to really fix things. While it’s impossible to go back in time and force me not to follow you, I can at least try and prove you that I know that I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it could hurt you so much. Well, you’d told me, but I didn’t get how important it was for you. So, yeah. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll trust you with your judgement and not baby you like I did.”

Harry felt a warm wave of affection fill his chest, as he took in what Louis was saying. It had never occurred to him how  _ serious _ this thing was. The fact that Louis had spent time thinking about what was Harry’s reason to be mad made him feel so loved and taken care of that he could barely hold back the tears of joy that were pooling at the corner of his eyes. He leaned forward, took the ice-cream bowl and placed it on the ground.

Without as much as a single word, he kissed Louis on the lips, before deepening the kiss and moving to straddle him. He was feeling so bold, so self-confident - he felt a wave of arousal curling at the bottom of his stomach at the sight of Louis. He was quite a vision, with his blue eyes sparkling wide and his hair sticking up at odd directions from were Harry had played with them earlier. He dived in, an hungry urgency in his kiss, searching for Louis’ hands and placing them on his waist.

Louis let Harry's hands roam over his body. Whatever was happening felt extremely fragile and intimate, and Louis was scared that a single breath could scare Harry away. He kissed him gently, but Harry parted his lips into the kiss and let him in his mouth. As Louis deepened the kiss, Harry rested his hands on his arse, tugging him close. The crotches aligned, and Harry let go of a rushed breath. Louis' eyes searched for Harry's. "This okay?" Harry nodded, before pulling him in again. His hands were exploring all of Louis' body, hungry but hesitant at the same time. Louis kissed Harry's neck, his hand lightly tracing the line of his collarbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. At that, Harry ground down on Louis, just as he bucked his hips. Harry was struggling to keep quiet, his body overwhelmed with the feeling of Louis’ hands all over him, touching and kissing him in all the right places. Louis’ touch started moving lower,  _ lower _ . 

He stopped with his fingers ghosting over the waistband of Harry’s jeans and his eyes blue eyes fixed on Harry’s face, searching. 

“I can stop. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Please.” 

Louis unbuttoned them and let a finger slide under the fabric, hesitant. “Green?”

“Green. Definitely green.” He half moaned, already moving to seek more friction. They had decided to use a safe word, even though up to that point they had never done anything remotely sexual. Louis had asked if it would have made things easier and Harry had shrugged, but agreed that they could give it a go. So here they were.

They were still sitting on the living room floor, Louis’ back against the sofa and Harry sitting on his lap. He tried to move closer against Louis’ hand, but Louis moved it away. 

“Not here.” He scrambled to his feet, pushing Harry off from him. “Bedroom. Too special” He helped Harry up, guiding him backwards to his room while nibbling at his neck. He stopped once inside and locked the door, not bothering to turn on the lights, before getting back to Harry.

They moved to the bed, Harry climbing in first. Louis sat between his legs, resting his hands on each thigh. “Green?”

Harry nodded twice, eyes trained on Louis’ movements as he leaned in and took off his sweatshirt and Harry’s shirt. Louis bit his lip and moved on Harry’s side, before helping him out of his jeans. He traced the outline of Harry’s cock through the fabric of his boxers, making the younger boy shiver under his touch. Louis felt his a pleasant warmth pool in his groin at the sound of Harry’s quiet moan. He cut him off with a kiss, while cupping Harry’s arse to drag him closer. “Take them off, please.” Harry practically begged him, and  _ fuck _ . Louis was a grown man. He would  _ not _ come in his pants. 

“Not yet, babe.” Louis moved lower on the bed, leaving a wet trail of kisses on Harry’s ribcage. He mouthed him through the fabric, Harry hardening under his lips. When he started whimpering and moving his hips up, Louis sucked a wet bite on the inside of his thigh, gently pulling his boxer brief down. He looked up at Harry, who was staring at him wide eyed and with his lips slightly parted.

“‘M good” he mumbled, before Louis could ask. Harry was quite a view, naked and flustered, his hands gripping the duvet and a pleading look in his eyes. “Please?”

That was all the encouragement Louis needed. “So pretty.” He whispered, before licking a wet stripe from the base to the tip of Harry’s cock. He wrapped his hand around him, slowly stroking him twice before looking up at the other boy’s face. Harry had his eyes shut, head resting against the headboard. Louis cupped himself in his pants, too, and turned his attention back to Harry’s cock. Without warning, he took it all in his mouth, sucking lightly while circling the tip with light strokes of his tongue, his head bobbing up and down and his cheeks hollowing. 

Harry was making the most obscene sounds while arching his back up from the bed, biting his lower lip almost as if he was trying to keep quiet. “Fuck, feels so good.” He panted, as Louis picked up the pace and started stroking Harry and himself with the same rhythm. 

Soon enough, Harry was tugging at his hair before breathing out “Gonna come.” Louis smiled around his cock, before sucking harder and starting to massage his balls. Three more strokes and Harry was coming in Louis mouth, a strangled sound escaping his lips.

Louis swallowed eagerly, the raw burn at the back of his throat turning him on even more. Harry was smiling down at him now, his eyes shimmering in the dark bedroom, riding down his high.

“Let me.” He dragged Louis up, pulling his joggers and boxers down and wrapping his hand around him without hesitation. A couple of minutes later, Louis was coming on his belly, Harry’s mouth sucking a wet love bite on his collarbone.

A few minutes later, Harry got up to get a wet flannel. He cleaned them up, kissing Louis’ belly and tickling his side, Louis squirming to get away from his touch. Louis hadn’t seen him this happy in a while, and adding that to the afterglow of the orgasm was making him feel on cloud nine. 

When Harry slided under the covers with a satisfied sigh, he was feeling like he could burst in a flurry of gold particles. 

“I’m so in love with you” he whispered, wrapping his legs around Harry’s. Harry let his left hand trace lightly Louis’ spine, in slow and deliberate motions. Louis was starting to feel drowsy. 

“ _ I love you like the stars above, I’ll love you until I die _ .” Harry sang in reply before kissing his closed eyelids and snuggling closer to his side.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Hello there, my dear readers. Here's the new chapter. It was a really difficult one to write (the last part in particular). This is my first attempt at writing smut in English, so I hope it didn't turn out too atrocious. I'd love to read your thoughts on it! Just leave a comment below, I'll be forever grateful.  
> On another, more nostalgic, note, we are getting closer to the end of this journey. I probably won't be able to fit everything in just one chapter, so it's likely that I'll have to split it up in chapter XIV and chapter XV. I hope you won't mind.   
> The song Harry is quoting at the very end is Romeo & Juliet by Dire Straits. I really suggest you go and listen to it if you haven't already. 
> 
> Lastly, THANK YOU all so much. Writing this story has helped me out on so many levels - and without you, your comments and your kudos I'd probably have given up a long time ago. So, again, thank you.   
> I hope your holidays are going well and that you enjoyed the chapter.   
> All the love, xxx  
> Sil


	14. Together

**Chapter XIV**

**Together**

 

It happened on a random afternoon, a rainy day in late June. Harry had just come back from work and Louis was watching a Top Gear rerun, and they were both lying on the couch cuddling and talking.

After a while, Harry turned around to face Louis. Louis kissed him on the forehead, but Harry tilted his head up to reach Louis' lips. Soon enough, the older boy opened his lips and Harry didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, bringing his left hand to Louis' neck to draw him closer.

"Hungry, aren't we?" Louis giggled before Harry took his bottom lip between his teeth, making the older boy moan lowly. Harry flushed, but kept kissing him, dropping a few kisses on his jaw and on his neck, Louis shivering and smiling at the same time.

Louis moved his hand to the small of Harry's back, Harry easily giving in at the touch and thrusting his hips closer trying to get more friction.

"Harry" Louis managed to breath out "slow down, love." He started kissing him back, trying to get the control of the kiss. Harry wasn't giving in as easily as usual, though. He had a determined expression on his face, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration and lips red by nibbling at Louis' neck. Louis was already sporting a semi when he managed to stand up and drag Harry with him to their bedroom, fifteen minutes later.

Harry started fiddling the buttons of Louis' white shirt with one hand, the other one sliding under his jeans and playing with the elastic of his boxers.

Louis was confused. Very confused. Harry had never been like that: every time they did something sexual (nothing more than a blowjob, to be honest) Harry had been shy, almost embarrassed, always waiting for Louis' reassurances and praise. He had gotten better, though. He had started to touch Louis more often and he had confessed that he didn't feel guilty about it anymore. Louis had felt so proud of him that night that he had cried before kissing him goodnight. Now, though, he seemed determined to be the one in control.

Harry finally managed to unbutton the shirt completely, tossing it to the floor. He pushed Louis on the bed, straddling his legs and kissing his neck.

"Love." Louis lifted his head with two fingers under his chin. "Look at me?" Harry's eyes met his own, his hair wild and tangled in a messy bun. Something was off: Louis could tell by his expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He tried to kiss Louis again, but the older boy moved out of the way. He tightened his hold on Harry's hips and pushed him higher on his chest.

"Love. There's nothing you can't tell me, remember?"

"Okay. I just... I'm ready. I'm ready." He giggled, hiding his face in the crook of Louis' neck. He started kissing there as well, leaving a wet path behind.

"Ready for what?" Louis had an idea, of course he did. They'd been talking about it: with each other, with Harry's therapist, with each other again. He just wanted to be sure.

Harry didn't say anything, but reached behind Louis' head and opened his bedside table. He placed two condoms and a tube of lube on the bed. "Oh. Okay." Louis’ jeans were starting to feel a bit too tight, but he couldn't lose focus. He had to be careful. And gentle. And reassuring. "Remember what we said about boundaries and stuff, right? If you feel uncomfortable you just tell me and I'll stop immediately." Harry nodded, closing his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." Harry was now looking at him, eyes wide in worry and lips slightly parted.

"Whatever happens today will not change the fact that I love you." Louis kissed him, and Harry started carding his hand through Louis hair.

"Okay." He started nibbling at Louis' earlobe, making the older boy shiver. He rolled over, lying on his side and using his now free hands to tug at the buttons of Louis jeans. He took a deep breath and bit his lower lip as Harry slid them off, his hips jutting involuntary up from the bed.

"I'm going to take your t-shirt off, that alright?" Harry kissed his inner thigh as an answer, smiling up at him mischievously.

They took their time, slowly kissing every inch of the other skin. Louis did just like the therapist had instructed him to: he kept asking questions, telling Harry what he was going to do and asking what he liked the most.

Harry's confidence vanished as soon as Louis took off his jeans. He looked so vulnerable whispering under his breath: "You nervous, too?"

Louis smiled and kissed the inside of his wrist, his hands fumbling trying to open the bottle of lube. "A bit."

"Just... Go slow. It's been a while, since..."

"I know, love. I know. We'll make it good." Harry seemed to be reassured by those words. Louis was in no rush: he prepped him as slowly as possible, kissing away every groan, and by the time Harry was ready to take him he was so turned on he could barely think straight (ah, the _irony_!).

Harry’s eyes were wide in worry when he pushed inside of him. Louis could read every single thoughts in the crease between his eyebrows and in the way Harry’s hand searched for his and grasped it in a panicked squeeze.

Louis knew it wasn’t about him. He knew Harry was chanting a mantra of “ _Not Nick. Not Nick. Not Nick._ ” in that exact moment, and even though he had thought he had come to term with it, it still stung to feel this moment so deeply pervaded by Nick’s memories.

When they were both done and lying on their backs, and Harry started crying with his head buried behind his hands, Louis took him in his arms anyway, peppering every inch of his skin with salt-stained kisses. Two hours later, while they were making dinner in the silent kitchen, Harry bumped his hip against Louis’, smiling and pressing a soft “thank you” to his cheek. Louis felt his eyes water, but didn’t let any tear fall from his eyes.

It still wasn’t about him the second, or third, or fourth time, but Louis had learnt how to make it good, by then, and Harry had stopped crying when it was over. The seventh time, Harry came with _Louis_ on his lips; the ninth, he asked “Was it good?”; and just two hours back, he had giggled when Louis had hit his head against the bedframe, mid-thrust.

It started being about them all of the time, eventually, Harry’s confidence building up day by day and making him more and more cheeky. It was nice, to have Harry’s trust to a point where he felt comfortable enough to lay himself bare in front of Louis all the time.

It made Louis cry, sometimes, how vulnerable Harry was making himself for him.

He was a lucky man.

 

*

 

Summer, the warm promise of peace and lightness, was everything but easy.

Louis went home for the better part of the two-month break, trying to spend as much time as possible with his sisters before moving back to London for his final year. The girls had been considerably happier since he had gotten home, and he was trying his best to cheer them up. He woke up every morning thinking about how he could turn the day into an adventure and always made sure to give the girls something to look forward to.

Harry went to his mom’s. It was nice, to be back in the place he grew up in, without any concerns or worries to cloud up his brain. He found out he had missed his mom’s attentions more than he had realised. He confessed everything about Nick a couple of weeks after his arrival, tears lining both of their faces and quiet sobs making it difficult to go on. But those words had to be said, and so they were. His mum tucked him to bed, kissed his cheeks and waited for him to fall asleep before going back to her room, and made him frayed eggs for breakfast the following morning. Harry knew the food did nothing for the tear in his chest, but he smiled nonetheless. He didn’t want his mother to feel useless, or to think of him as utterly hopeless. He was getting better, after all. He was.

Being apart made their relationship stronger. Harry learnt to stand on his own feet and Louis learnt to trust Harry with his choices.

Harry and Louis saw each other at least every other week. Usually, it was Harry who took the train to Doncaster, mostly because he loved spending time with the girls. The fact that Louis wasn’t that comfortable with Harry’s mother played a role as well, even though Louis would have never admitted it. Harry knew Louis too well. He could tell that seeing Anne made him think of his own mother, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet. On the other hand, Anne loved Louis like a son, and often bought little presents for his sisters. Harry loved the way their family were merging together: it made their relationship feel like something permanent, something to be proud of.

He was proud.

 

*

 

They moved in together the following September, after ten months of being together and three of talking about it. They rented a place near Harry’s uni that was nothing more than a studio flat with no heating and a broken elevator. Harry kept his job at the _gelato_ place and started babysitting his boss’ daughter, while Louis had started working as an intern doctor in a famous clinic downtown, while trying to keep up with his final year. It was hard, but the pay was worth it and his work made him feel valuable and proud of himself. There was nothing better than waking up with a purpose, knowing that he had the chance to save people’s life everyday.

Harry was still in university, but couldn’t wait to graduate and become an English teacher. He was working harder than ever to be at the top of the class and sort his life out, both for himself and for his future with Louis. He couldn’t help but think about it everyday - their future family, their future pet, their future children. It helped him on the worst days, when the world got a bit too much.

Niall and Lisa had broken up in the summer. Niall wasn’t ready to settle down, after all, and they had decided that breaking up was the best choice for both of them. He had gone through a couple of rough weeks, but was already feeling a bit better. Despite her promises to keep in touch, the only one who was still in contact with Lisa was Harry, who informed Niall that she was going to move to Spain in October. He had shrugged without giving too much away.

Liam and Zayn were going strong, despite a rocky couple of months back in Spring. Zayn had feared that he had been just an experiment to Liam, since he had never been with any boys before. Liam had decided to show how sure about them he was by winning him over again, with a complex wooing that had taken him three weeks of random dates and lots of love poems. Even though they hadn’t formally moved in together, Zayn was at Liam’s all the time, especially now that Louis had moved out. They had adopted a dog together (Liam had always been a dog person) and named him Argo, just like Ulysses’ faithful pet. Zayn had managed to fit right into their group, and he and Louis had bonded so much that they had started hanging out by themselves almost weekly.

Laura was doing alright and came to visit Louis and Harry all the time. She had been  trying to teach them how to cook proper italian food, but despite Harry’s cooking skills, Louis hopelessness made it an almost impossible task. They did have fun anyway, when they weren’t risking to burn down the whole building.

Harry hadn’t felt that happy in a long time. It was scary, sometimes, how good it was.

It wasn’t scary, now, though. Not when the morning light tinged Louis’ hair gold and made his eyes sparkle bright. Not when the smell of pancakes and coffee lingered in the kitchen, not when Louis was sleepy and pliant in Harry’s hoodie and loose sweatpants.

“I was thinking,” Louis began, tangling his ankles around Harry’s under the table. “I was thinking that, like. It’s almost December and Christmas already feels closer.” He dragged his fork in the syrup left on his plate, tracing the outline of a heart. “Maybe. Maybe we could celebrate it together?”

There was a nervous, insecure edge to his voice, one that Harry had learnt to hate. It was the way his voice got when he asked him about Nick, or the abuse.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Harry rushed out, grinning. “I’d love to, Lou.”

Louis looked up, relief washing over him. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m _so_ sure.” Everything tasted sweet and promising, in the soft light of a lazy November morning. “I can’t wait, actually.”

“Your mum and Gem can take the twins’ room, and they’ll sleep on the sofa in Lottie’s room.” He tried to deadpan, but the smile curling his lips was giving him away. Harry surged forward, taking Louis’ face between his hands and pressing a passionate kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Lou. _Thank you_.” Louis knew how hard it had been last Christmas, without his family by his side. While Harry would have happily given up going back to Holmes Chapel to be by Louis’ side, he was beyond relieved to hear Louis’ words.

They did nothing but lie around for the rest of the day, their bodies always touching in one way or the other. Louis offered to cook dinner, so Harry found himself writing his essay with his books scattered on the kitchen table while Louis was cutting some vegetables, his back turned to him and the rhythm of the knife against the cutting board steady.

That was his life, now.

Lazy days spent naked in bed and soft kisses exchanged without any reason, morning sex that made them both late to class and movie nights where they fell asleep on top of each other, random gifts wrapped in the ugliest wrapping they could find and love letters written on the subway, in the park, in that boring Medieval Lit class.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, where he had plugged it half an hour before. Louis looked over, his eyebrow raised questioningly. Harry smiled, nodding twice. “You know my passcode. Go on and read it.”

“Well, I know your passcode just because it’s my _name_.” He huffed out, half-teasing and half-fond. “I don’t want to meddle in your things.”

“Like I’ve got something to hide.” He scrunched his nose, tying his hair up in a messy bun.

“It’s Niall. Uhm, apparently, The 1975 are playing in London next week.” Louis looked up, his eyebrow knitted together.

Harry scrambled to his feet and flung himself across the kitchen. “Lou. We need to go.” He stated, his tone serious and definitive.

“Haz…” Louis’ lips were set in a thin line, and he didn’t give in in Harry’s embrace as he usually would. “We can’t afford it. We need to fix the heating before it gets cold for real and…”

“I’ll work double shifts at the _gelateria_.” Harry protested, instinctively putting some distance between them. “It’s no big deal. The ticket can’t be more than, like, 30 quids.”

“Babe, we’ve already spent 50 pounds each at that fancy dinner last week. And you’re exhausted, you _can’t_ possibly work eight hours straight next week. Not with exams coming up.”

“But…” Harry dropped his gaze, his expression sad and disappointed. Louis hated seeing him like that, but Harry hadn’t gotten a perfect grasp on the concepts of money and saving up yet, so he needed to be firm. It was the right thing to do.

“I know babe, I’m sorry.” Louis opened his arms, and Harry stepped closer and rested his head on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “I promise you that it’s worth it.”

“I’m so tired, Lou. I just want a break from this all. I hate being an adult.” Harry sighed, pressing his nose against Louis neck. “I just want to sleep for a week. Or a year.” Louis shifted a bit, taking Harry’s face in his hands and kissing him on the nose.

“Soon, love. Just a couple of weeks, yeah?” Harry nodded hesitantly. “And then Christmas all together. It’s gonna be great.” Louis pressed a kiss to his hair, gently pushing a few curls away from his eyes.

Harry, a shy smile on his lips, moved to the table and piled his books in the farthest corner from where they usually sat. They ate in companionable silence, Louis sat on Harry’s lap. Louis helped Harry out with his essays (mostly kissing him at the end of each paragraph.) Three orgasms and half an hour of cuddles later, they fell asleep curled around each other, the missed concert just a far, harmless thought.

 

*

 

Their first anniversary was on a Thursday.

Louis opened the door to a silent apartment, Harry’s boot discarded in the hall the only sign of him being home. It was not a good sign. It never was, when he couldn’t hear him humming in the kitchen or laughing at some stupid reality show.

He toed off his Vans and went straight to the bedroom, where he found Harry asleep buried under a double layer of blankets.

Normally, he would have opened the curtains, let the light pour in, and woken Harry up peppering his face with enthusiastic kisses. He would have taken him to the kitchen, poured him a glass of water and then dragged him along for a walk.

Not today.

He peeled his jeans off and climbed into bed behind Harry, burying his face in Harry’s curls.

 

It took half an hour for Harry to wake up. He shifted in bed and turned to face Louis, before starting to smile softly at his boy. When Louis expression remained blank, though, an hint of uneasiness started to creep in his thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You ok?” Louis didn’t answer, but leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Sh, it’s okay. Come here.”

They were holding each other so tight, trying to keep themselves together and support each other through whatever was happening in their minds, that Harry was afraid Louis was going to shatter under his touch.

Harry was just having a down day, something that didn’t happen that often anymore but that still forced him to bed once in a while. He tried to push it all away for Louis, though. He started by kissing him on the tip of his nose, something that always made him laugh. When he didn’t get any reaction if not for a deep sigh, he decided to stand up and make them some tea. That seemed to help. It took Louis an hour to start speaking, and when he did, his voice was quivering.

“A woman died today. Car accident, internal bleeding, we couldn’t do anything, all of that bullshit.” He took a deep breath. “Made me think of mum.” And then he crumbled, his entire body shaking and his eyes filled with tears. Harry tried to comfort him, but couldn’t do much, when Louis was curled in himself, his hands covering his face and his eyes closed shut, refusing to listen, _look at me, Lou, love, just look at me_. Maybe Harry was starting to understand what it felt like when he had a panic attack, and the sense of guilt and helplessness that was curling at the bottom of his stomach made him shuffle uneasily on the sofa. He held Louis tighter, and only when he finally stopped shaking, he dared to speak. “Hey, I was thinking. Tomorrow’s your day off and your shift on Saturday doesn’t start until 6, right? So, let’s say we pack a bag for the night and catch the last train to Doncaster. We spend tomorrow and Saturday morning with your sisters and come back before work”

“Harry, you’ve got uni tomorrow.” Despite Louis shaking his head, Harry could make out the subtle glint of hope in his eyes, so he just let out a soft giggle and kissed his temple.

“Screw uni. You’re more important.” Louis laughed at his cheesiness and dried his cheeks with the back of his hands.

“You were such a responsible boy, when I met you. What happened to the sensible, sweet Harold?” Oh, screw uni for real, if it meant having Louis back to his happy, ironic self.

“You’re a bad influence, Lou.” He checked the time on his phone. “Also, we have 45 minutes to get to King’s Cross. We better get going.” Louis smiled softly and kissed him on the lips before standing up from the sofa and rushing to the bedroom to pack their shared duffle bag.

 

The thing with the two of them was that they both were deeply wounded, and that all they had been through had left a scar sometimes too deep to be understood.

Louis couldn’t quite talk about his mother yet.

Harry felt the urge to scratch his bad thoughts off his skin, from time to time.

It wasn’t always easy.

It never was.

But they were working on it.

Moments like those - when Louis took care of Harry, and when Harry took care of Louis - were what Harry and Louis liked the best about them.

Well, that, and their duet cover of “You Are the One That I Want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... We're almost there. I am feeling quite emotional about this story ending, but as much as I'd like to keep writing about these two, I have to let go.  
> The epilogue is almost done, so keep your eyes peeled for that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.  
> Thank you for your support, your kudos, your comments. You are amazing.  
> All the love, as always,  
> xxx  
> Sil.


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Five years later**

 

Louis decided he wanted to marry Harry later in the summer, while they were in Italy visiting Laura for a couple of weeks. 

They were staying in a cute little bed and breakfast that had been paid by Laura in advance (apparently, the owners were her cousins or something. Louis was pretty sure it was just a lie to make them stop complaining). Their room was in a soft lilac tone, the balcony overlooking the square and with no TV. Harry loved it. 

Laura showed them around her tiny hometown, her usual sarcasm completely replaced by affectionate pride when talking about the place where she grew up. She greeted everyone they met, and introduced them to her childhood friends, a surprisingly large group of people who had instantly taken a liking in them and kept asking them question about London and how Laura was doing away from home in a broken English. 

It was just on their second to last day there, though, that Louis took that decision. 

They were sitting outside the cafè right below their bed and breakfast, drinking their  _ aperitivo _ and talking about how they were gonna miss Italy, when they heard a child screeching from the other side of the road a loud: “‘Arry!”. Harry stood up immediately, his face relaxing in a wide grin, and started making his way towards the little boy. Laura came running after the boy, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess. 

“ _ Alessandro, quante volte ti ho detto di… _ ”

“It’s alright, Laura, it’s alright. Come here, he’s good.” Louis called her, cutting off whatever she was saying in italian and offering her a sip of his Spritz, which she accepted gratefully.

“I have no idea of how my sister manages to keep her cool when he’s such a menace.”

“Oh, shut up. He’s a lovely kid.”

“I think he won someone’s heart, already.” She nodded towards Harry and Alessandro, engrossed in a complicated conversation that probably neither of them could understand. 

“ _ Tu _ ... are? Oh yeah, yeah.  _ Sei. Bravo. Tu sei bravo. _ ” Ale high fived Harry for the successful italian sentence, before sticking his tongue out and asking him to play tag. Before long, they were both running around the square, their laughs louder than the sound of the Church’s bell ringing above them.

Harry was a vision. He was wearing short jeans and his favourite burgundy t-shirt, sunglasses pushed back in his hair and a wide grin on his face. Louis hadn’t seen Harry so carefree in a long time. They had had a rough start of summer - with their rent raising of 10% and their wages remaining the same, with Louis being frustrated because his boss was doing everything she could to turn his shifts into hell, with Harry still dealing with all of his issue on a regular basis. It took Louis a sunny square in Italy to realise none of it mattered - because despite the fear, the frustration, the anger that sometimes crept in, all he could feel for Harry was love. 

“Louis? Hello?” Laura smirked, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Do you think I am too young to get married?” he rushed out, unable to look away from Harry.

Laura laughed affectionately. “Oh my god, Lou. Definitely too young.” She stood up to hug him anyway, as if she was congratulating. “But don’t worry. He’s gonna stick around. You may feel ready, but you’re definitely not in a rush. You have all the time in the world.”

Laura was making sense. She was making a lot of sense, to be honest. Harry had turned 25 in February, still didn’t have a proper job, still couldn’t bother to wear matching socks. Louis couldn’t burden him with a marriage proposal right now. It would have been selfish, in a lot of ways, and he  _ was _ pretty selfish, but never when it came to Harry. 

“I guess. Erm, thanks. Please don’t tell him?” Laura hugged him a bit tighter and laughed a bit louder.

“You’re so gone, it’s almost ridiculous.” 

Louis didn’t mind being ridiculous, for once. 

 

 

 

The thought had always been there, now that he thought about it. 

When Harry had been playing on his computer, curled next to him on the sofa - _ “Will you marry me?” _ ; when they had been making love, their moans loud in the empty flat -  _ “Will you marry me?” _ ; when they had been fighting over a fucking pair of jeans “Lou, you ruined them. I told you a billion time not to wash them with-” -  _ “Will you marry me?” _ ; that time they had been laughing so hard they had to ask for a glass of water to calm down -  _ “Will you marry me?” _ .

Loving Harry was this fierce, overwhelming force that never stopped pulling him in, that swept him from his feet everyday. 

It was hard, of course, but it had been way harder than this, and yet, Louis didn’t mind. Bad days were horrible because Harry felt distant and disconnected, but they had learnt to deal with them a lot better than they had done in the beginning: panic attacks were now weeks, months apart, and Harry could deal with them by himself most of the time. 

They were so desperately in love that it hurt sometimes, but Louis didn’t mind about that either.

 

 

 

On their last night in Italy, they went for dinner in a fancy restaurant neither of them could afford, and ordered the most expensive wine just because Harry liked the way the name sounded. By the time they went back to their room, their heads were feeling dizzy and Harry was in his giggly mood. It took them a couple of minutes to open the door to their room and just as long to wiggle out of their jeans. Louis went to brush the purple stains away from his teeth, while Harry fumbled with something on his phone. His hands looked a bit shaky, from what Louis could tell.

When Louis came out of the bathroom, he found Harry leaning out of the open window, his elbows rested on the windowsill and a gentle breeze ruffling his hair.

He hugged him from behind, locking his waist in his arms and nuzzling is nose between his shoulder blades.

Below them, a group of foreigners was asking a busker for a song, dropping a few euros in his battered guitar case.

"Twenty quids it's wonderwall." Louis joked, placing a lazy kiss on Harry's skin. The busker strummed a few chords, before Louis tightened his hold and smiled against Harry's back. "I won."

"I never said I was in." Harry replied, turning around in his arms and kissing him on the nose. "And it's a lovely song."

"An overplayed, boring, mildly lovely song." Louis put in, his tone gentle. Always gentle, when it came to Harry.

Harry closed the window, pouting. "You're being too harsh."

Louis laughed, and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. Their shirts were crumpled and half open, their jeans discarded by the door.

Harry's hands found their way to Louis' waist, and an amused smile curved his lips. "May I have this dance?" Harry asked, just above a whisper.

"Yes." Louis answered back, and they started swinging from one feet to the other. The moment felt extremely intimate and private, with the music blocked out by the window glass and the light of a lamp-post filtering through the curtains turning everything golden. London felt far, far away, and all of their problems held the transient inconsistency of half-forgotten dreams.

Louis rested his head against Harry's chest.

"When the lights go out" Harry hummed in Louis hair, without notice. "Will you take me with you? And carry all this broken bone?" They swung a bit to the left, and Louis calf knocked against the bed, but he didn't care. Harry sang on, his voice louder and louder, until Louis could not think of anything else but here and now, here and now.

"And if you stay, I will either wait all night or until my heart explodes." He did feel like he was about to explode from all of the love he was feeling, and the thought made him shiver. “How long? ‘Til we find our way in the dark and out of harm, you can run away with me anytime you want.” 

Louis stood on his tiptoes, his smile wide and his stomach swarming with butterfly.  _ Will you marry me? _ he thought, and leaned forward to kiss him. 

“I have a question.” Harry whispered, when they broke apart. “But please don’t freak out.” Louis laughed softly, glancing up to his face.

“Go ahead, I’m listening.” Harry swallowed, his hold tightening around Louis’ waist. 

“So. We’ve met eight years ago, right? And I would have never thought that someone could turn my life around the way you did. But then you came along. You showed me what being loved should feel like and treated me like I was worth of love and respect, even on those days were I was so miserable and couldn’t even get out of bed. And now we’re here, in Italy, and I’m so in love it’s scary sometimes, and you are as beautiful as always, with those eyes and that mischievous smile of yours…” He trailed off, gently brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is…” His voice was slightly quivering, and a single tear escaped his right eye. His hand was behind his back, and before Louis could realise what was happening, Harry dropped to his knee, revealing a blue velvety box. He fumbled until he managed to open it, a simple silver ring shining under the golden light. “Louis William Tomlinson, will you marry me?”

  
  


 

 

They were lying in bed, their limbs tangled under the light lavender sheets and the ring on Louis’ finger reflecting the first morning light filtering through the curtains. Louis couldn’t stop looking at it, and his smile was beaming and radiant. After slowly making love twice, their kisses had turned slow and lazy, and they were lying facing each other in the king sized bed, Louis’ hand trapped between them.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve met before, Lou.” Harry said, kissing Louis’ knuckles. “I mean, before  _ before _ . Before we were born, before my mother’s first kiss, before your grandparents’ first dance;  _ before _ . I feel we’ve been together since the universe was birthed, 14 billion years ago. Maybe you were an hydrogen atom in the Sun, and I was the helium of Ankaa*; maybe we collided twice: once when you were a shooting star and I was a tiny planet in the corner of a dark galaxy, and again when we both were asteroids floating in the middle of nowhere. Do you agree, Lou? I’m pretty sure you were a ray of sunshine and I was a flower, at some point; and after that, you were the sea, with its insatiable tides, and I was the  sharp edge of a cliff. Is that possible? I think it is. I think we were here before these bodies, before  _ you  _ and  _ I _ , maybe in some sort of metaphysical way, because this energy between us… This energy I could recognize anywhere is older than the Sun and  the stars. What if we were always one, Lou? What if we were two halves of the same atom, in the exact moment the universe exhaled its first breath? What if the story of the galaxy has led up to this exact moment?” 

“What if what you’re saying it’s true? What happens after?”

“Oh, love. Don’t be silly.” Harry laughed it off, as if Louis was the one speaking nonsense, before leaning in for a kiss. “We’ll never die - I’ll be the wind blowing softly beneath your wings, and you’ll sing me goodnight from now to the end of time. This?” He motioned between them, his eyes sparkling with the feeling of being drunk on life.    
“This is bigger than both of us.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

~ Fine. ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys.  
> This story I began writing 10 months ago is done, and it's now yours. I am both proud of how it turned out and scared of letting it go, but I've said everything that could have been said and I'm pretty sure Harry, Lou and the boys will be fine even without me.  
> I'm so grateful for everyone who commented, liked, or even just read this story. Your love meant a lot, especially since this story held such a cathartic meaning to me. Thank you.  
> I'm already thinking about so many new prompts, so I hope I'll post something new very soon.  
> Harry's monologue at the end was inspired by this post: https://www.instagram.com/p/-sjNwkJJfR/?taken-by=dallasclayton by the amazing Dallas Clayton. His work has inspired me countless times before and you should all take a moment to take a look at his drawings and read his poems: there's something almost magic about them.  
> All the love, as always.  
> Yours, xxx  
> Sil.


End file.
